A/N: Some TMR-GAP action. Lovely. It's Ginny's birthday! WOOOOP! And there's quite a funny bit in here. Dumdeedum. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wish it was.
The Letter P
Chapter Eleven: P is for Paradox (and Riddle's Dental Care)
"He walked you to Hall? That's all he did, and it gets you into a state of red-cheeked giggly girliness?" Grace said incredulously, her voice several amplitudes louder than Ginny would have preferred.
"Are we talking about Scott?" asked Alden, his eyes widening slightly in understanding. At least he had the sense to say it quietly.
And, so happy and giddy in her emotions was Ginny, that she did not notice the burning glare fixed upon her by dark eyes glazed green.
…
Hallowe'en. Everyone was excited about it, and rumours were floating around school that the It Couple were not going with each other, and that so-and-so and whats-her-face were going together, and so on.
It being Ginny's birthday, she was more excited than most people. From Grace she received a silver bracelet and a stick of purple eyeliner (they shared the same love for bright eyeliner), and from Alden a heavy book on Quidditch. From Flora was a new quill, and from Alden's little brother was a box of Honeydukes sweets.
I don't have that many friends. How much was I expecting?
Ginny thought sadly of the presents she would have received at home. Eight presents in total, from her family. From Hermione, Luna, Harry, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati… all those presents had been destroyed, however, or left behind, and none would replace them, as the givers were gone as well.
"Are you going to wear the bracelet and eyeliner to the ball?" asked Grace.
"Yeah, I will," agreed Ginny. "But I'm not going to the ball, you know that. I'm going to the little peoples' disco. I have watch over it. I'm sorry, I can't help you get ready either."
"Oh, poo," pouted Grace.
"Oh poo'?" sneered Claude, passing by. "Your insults and curses truly astonish me with their maturity, Hartwin."
"Crawl back to the gutter from whence you came!" Grace bellowed at the offending blonde. "Scum," she added for good measure, as Ginny leant against the wall for support from her laughter.
"You are so random sometimes," giggled Ginny.
Grace shrugged. "Been said before," she said. "Don't you have to go?"
The sixteen-year-old looked at the clock on the wall. "Crap, yeah," she muttered. "Alright, Grace, Alden, have a really good time, 'kay? I'll see you in a while." She embraced each of them, grabbed her box of disco-work, and hurried away.
Please don't let me be late. Riddle won't let me live it down. Then she remembered when she had last seen Riddle; she shivered. I hope that doesn't happen again. Oh, I really don't want to have to see him…
She skidded in through the doors of the Great Hall. "No fear, I am here!" she shouted.
In response, Eleanor called a muffled 'hey' from the other side of the room, on a rickety ladder, halfway up the wall, pins in her mouth; Jack groaned; Robert grunted; and Olive continued with her work.
"Well, you're cheerful," scowled Ginny. "So, what needs doing, Eleanor?"
The Head Girl replied with, "Hmmg mn."
Come again?
Then Eleanor climbed down, and, removing the pins from her mouth, said, "Right. We need the stage setting up for the band. We need the stage amplified with the Sonorus charm, but the rest of the room dimmed so that the chatter of the students isn't deafening. Try a combination of spells to get it just right. Test it by shouting in different areas."
"Okay," said Ginny, writing it down on a slip of paper, forming a checklist. "And?"
"Get someone to talk to the house-elves. Set up a buffet-table for the food to go on. I recommend that it's placed on the raised dais where the teachers eat. Sprinkle the floor with black and orange sand. Just get normal sand and Transfigure it. Er. Black and orange paper-chains. Dancing plastic skeletons. Black drapes around the room. Set up the ceiling for a dark and stormy night. Dim lights for an eerie look…" Eleanor cast her eyes upwards, as if thinking hard. "That's all, I reckon."
"Got it."
…
"You know what this reminds me of?"
Ginny heard Olive Hornby voice the question as they were pinning up the black drapes. She discreetly listened in, hoping to learn something.
"The Yule Ball, two years ago. Remember that?" Olive asked. "And how stupid Moaning Myrtle Tristanebury screwed it up because she accidentally set the teacher's table on fire. She was such a loser."
"Olive!" snarled Eleanor. The abrupt change in demeanour was frightening, and her eyes glowed with anger. "I'd think that you of all people would an ounce of respect for Myrtle, considering that your bullying was the cause of her death," she said, her voice low and cold with anger.
Myrtle… Myrtle… Myrtle! The ghost of the girls' toilets. The one who hid from taunting and was killed by the Basilisk… her death was Olive's doing!
"Puh-lease," snorted Olive. "Someone was bound to snuff her."
It just so happened that Riddle got there first…
"A week's detentions with Dippet," said Eleanor icily, drawing herself up to her full height. "How dare you, Hornby."
Maybe I can find something out…
"Who's Myrtle?" Ginny asked suddenly.
Eleanor seemed to remember that she was in the middle of doing something, and picked up her checklist again, before turning to Ginny. "One of the worst things to happen to Hogwarts was Myrtle Tristanebury's death," she said quietly.
"Someone died?"
"It happened last year. A fifth-year. A Hufflepuff. She was teased mercilessly since she first set foot in the castle. No-one liked her. Someone who particularly hated her was Olive Hornby," Eleanor looked over at the offending Prefect. "She was dubbed 'Moaning Myrtle' because she cried so often, in the abandoned girls' toilets on the second floor. One day, Olive was being especially horrible. Myrtle ran away."
Ginny shivered. She knew the end to this story, and it wasn't happy. And it was only a year ago that it happened.
"For all we knew, she was just crying somewhere. After a few hours though, we started to worry. Myrtle never stayed away so long. Dippet told Olive to search for her, and apologize. I was a Prefect; I didn't trust her to do it," said Eleanor, "so I went with her. We got there, and, to prepare her, incase she was in a total state, Olive called in, 'Myrtle, Professor Dippet says to come out. Honestly, this is just ridiculous, even for you'. But no-one replied."
"And then?" Ginny asked anxiously.
"We went in." Eleanor hugged herself tightly and looked at the ceiling. "I've never forgotten it. She was in the middle of the bathroom floor. She had been crying. There were tearstains on her cheeks. The only difference was that she was dead."
The redhead listener suppressed another shudder. She had seen enough deaths, and regretted asking to hear about another.
"Her parents were informed, and she was taken away. No-one found out how she died. Dippet knew, but he didn't tell anyone… it still creeps me out, thinking that this castle holds death inside it," Eleanor finishes.
And in the next forty-eight years, the deaths would times by ten in number.
"On a more cheerful note," said Robert loudly, coming through the door, "the food is here."
Hoards of house-elves poured through the doors, a large wooden table hovering above their heads. Each held a platter of food, or a tray of goblets, or a jug of various drinks, and one held a massive folded tablecloth. Leaving them to their own devices, Ginny checked her list again. In her small, familiar writing, only one sentence remained unticked – set up ceiling for dark and stormy night.
That'll take some complicated spells to momentarily re-enchant it from showing the weather outside. Maybe Eleanor knows. Or I should probably just go and ask Dippet.
"I'm going to see Dippet about the ceiling!" called Ginny to the Head Girl, and then left.
As she climbed the familiar stairs to the Headmasters' office, she hummed under her breath a Weird Sisters' song, and then rapped sharply on the wood of the door. "Professor?" she called, cutting off the chorus of 'Supernatural'.
"Enter."
Ginny pushed through the door and stepped inside. "Hello, sir."
"Ah. Miss Peregrine. I was wondering when you would come to see me next. Close the door, please," said Dippet, removing his very large reading glasses and sliding a dusty volume aside. "How have you been?"
Doing as instructed, Ginny replied, "Alright. I made friends with Grace Hartwin and Alden Philips. And sort of friends with Eleanor Fionn and Scott Reeve. Not so much with Claude Felina Bastet, though."
"Hmm. I can't say I expected you to."
A short laugh pulled from Ginny's lips. Then she recalled why she was there, and said, "Sir, the Hallowe'en ball and disco is tonight. We're setting up, and I need you to help us to change the enchanted ceiling's image to one of a dark, stormy night. Are you free?"
Dippet glanced at a heap of paperwork beside him, and then at the heavy book he had been reading. "I shouldn't be free," he mused, "but I am rather bored, and I think that a trip down to the Great Hall would do me nicely."
They set off to the Great Hall and when they arrived, Ginny's face slipped in a hostile expression – a frown and pursed lips of anger, antagonism, and fear.
Riddle was standing in the center of the room, observing everything.
She was sorely tempted to try glaring a hole in the back of his head, through his neatly-combed wavy hair, but decided instead to pretend that he wasn't there.
Memories of the last time they had been together flooded Ginny and fear gripped her heart like a vice. Feeling its pulse start to pound hurriedly faster, she turned away and looked for something to do.
"How is everything?" Ginny asked Robert Harris.
"Oh, hi Peregrine," said Robert in reply. He wasn't frowning at her, but the Slytherin-Gryffindor relationship still stood (despite Eleanor and Ginny's friendship) and he wasn't overly friendly. "It's fine, I suppose."
"Call me Ginny," she corrected with a small smile. "I hate my last name. It means traveller and I don't intend to travel anywhere. Not yet, anyway."
The irony of my false name.
"The Ugly Basilisks will be Apparating to Hogsmeade soon. They'll send us a Patronus when they're there, and then someone has to meet them," Robert informed her.
Basilisks? Does a sarcastic paradox surround everything today? Again she thought of poor Myrtle's fate, and felt pity for the poor, unloved girl. Who am I to speak of someone's poor fate? Here I am, trapped in a different world to my own, destined to eventually murder someone, having seen everyone I care for killed in front of me, yet never granted it myself.
There it is again. Irony.
I need to stop talking to myself. Robert's waiting for an answer.
"Oh, alright. D'you want me to meet them? Or maybe it should Eleanor. It seems better if the Head Girl greets them than a scrawny Prefect," she joked.
Robert didn't laugh. He nodded, and then, giving her a glance out of the corner of his eyes, muttered, "Scrawny's a good word", before moving away.
"Fine!" Ginny snapped. "Be that way. 'Cause I don't like you either!" With that, and a humph of irritation, she flounced away to where Scott was waiting, and he flung his arms around her and lowered his face to hers…
…aaaand back to reality. Shaking off the last threads of the daydream, Ginny went to tell Eleanor that she needed to be prepared to meet The Ugly Basilisks. Unfortunately, she was talking to Riddle.
I am not going to be scared of him. I refuse. I refuse Ginny sucked in a breath to fill her lungs, and walked over to the Head Boy and Girl.
"… and I don't think they'll destroy everything if I leave them for ten seconds-" Riddle's effortless, emotionless flow of words crashed to a halt, as if the first carriage of a high-speed train had unexpectedly stopped, and the other carriages had all collided like dominoes. Ginny felt his eyes on her, but she stared determinedly at Eleanor; he quickly picked up his sentence again, making an effortless transition from staring at Ginny to speaking.
"Oh, alright. I suppose you'd better get back to them, then," Eleanor replied. "Ginny! Hello!" she then noticed the Prefect beside her. "What's up?"
"The Ugly Basilisks are coming soon," Ginny said.
She allowed her eyes to flick swiftly over to Riddle. He did not react noticeably to the name, and if you had not been specifically looking, you would not have known that he had reacted at all. However, Ginny was looking, and she saw a muscle in his jaw tense, as well as a variety of emotions flash through his dark eyes.
"Really?" Eleanor frowned. "They're early. You're here to tell me that I need to be ready to fetch them from Hogsmeade, right?"
Ginny nodded. "Just thought I should prepare you. They'll send a Patronus when they've turned up."
As if on cue, a large wispy polecat came running through the Great Hall doors. It opened its sharp-toothed mouth and spoke in a deep, gravely human voice: "We have arrived".
"Good timing," said Eleanor with a grin. She fluffed her blonde hair, smoothed her skirt, and then hurried away, stiletto heels clacking on the marble floor that showed scarcely through the black and orange sand that was spread evenly across it. "Be back in a minute!" she called over her shoulder. "Gin, you're in charge."
Will people stop calling me Gin thought the redhead with a frown marring her forehead. I am not alcohol. Memories of a long-lost voice speaking that name brought a sudden pang piercing her chest, and she closed her eyes, to fight back the tears she knew were threatening to spill.
"Don't get too lost in thought, will you?" said a sarcastic voice behind her. "You might not come back."
Her face hardened into a look of hostile aversion, and, though she wanted nothing better to ignore him still, Ginny turned to face him. She glared up into Riddle's arrogant, slightly-smirking face. "What do you want?" she said icily.
"The childish pleasure of annoying others that you seem to divulge in," replied Riddle coolly, his dark eyes glowing like coals with amusement.
"Grow up," Ginny bit out, her glare not wavering under his gaze.
"Bit rich, don't you think? Coming from you?" Riddle's mouth closed, cutting away the glittering metal that plagued Ginny's thoughts and distracted her permanently; flicked his gaze over her. "Aren't you supposed to have a costume, Peregrine?"
"I do, thank you very much," retorted Ginny.
"What are you dressed as? The cheap, irritating drama-queen?" Riddle said coldly. "I tell you, the fashion parade prize is yours."
His words stung more than they should have, and Ginny scolded herself for leaving her heart so unprotected. Building a temporary wall around it that she could make whole and proper at another time, she snarled in reply, "You're an arsehole. I do not give a damn if you're the Head Boy. I would throw you out of the Astronomy Tower if I had my way. And, I may add, I am a vampire."
With that, she dug in the pockets of her dungarees and pulled out a pair of inexpensive, plastic vampire-teeth. She pushed them into her mouth and snapped at Riddle, her teeth making a satisfying clink as they met.
"They're not that childish."
"If I was a vampire, that would have been a compliment, you realize," Ginny informed him smoothly. "Try better insults."
"The term, Peregrine, is vampress – and you are not one. Vampressi are famed for charm, wit, power and extraordinary beauty," said Riddle icily.
No. No, he did not.
Walls. Crumbling. A stab through Ginny's heart. It was impossible that Riddle, of all people, could know – yet he seemed to have known, known exactly what was Ginny's soft spot, and how to slice her heart, like a warm knife through soft butter.
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I just… we can't be together anymore," Harry said quietly. They stood together on the grounds, in spring, a few months before his death. It was a beautiful day, and it seemed to mock the break-up that was tearing Ginny into pieces.
"You're seeing Luna," Ginny said, trying not to choke her words on sobs. It wasn't a question. She knew that it was true. Red hair fell into her face, but she did not brush it away. She let it hide the pain that she knew was glowing in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Gin. Luna's just so beautiful. So beautiful and perfect," Harry whispered. His eyes grew vague and the way he spoke her name was exactly how Ginny had imagined him saying her name, a thousand times, every night. Full of admiration and love. And not just a grudging respect for his best friend's fierce baby sister with a silly crush on him. "She's so beautiful, Ginny. I'm sorry."
"I get it," Ginny found herself saying, though she was screaming at herself, and she didn't understand at all. "She's perfect, and she's all that you've ever wanted." And I'm not.
Harry didn't read her sarcasm, her strained, don't-worry-I'm-fine tone. "Yeah," he said happily. "I'm so glad you understand, Gin. See you at dinner, okay?" He walked away, humming a song. Ginny's favourite song. The one that he said reminded him of her. The one that she could never be.
"You bastard," Ginny choked out, and then her hand flew higher and higher to meet his face, and leave an imprint of her fury and sorrow upon his cheek.
A red mark, shaped like a hand, stood out on Riddle's pale, flawless face, which would undoubtedly sting in the morning – I want it to sting now, that stupid, arrogant MURDERER – but, strangely, he was holding his mouth. "Are you mental, woman?"
"Oh, it's nice to know that you now consider me a woman!" snarled Ginny, and she was horrified to hear that her voice was an octave higher than normal, and wobbling.
"Are you crazy?" Riddle hissed, spitting out a glob of blood. "That really hurt – I have a retainer, for God's sake!"
What?
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
What? Ginny stared up at Riddle. Staring.
The flashing metal.
The strangely muffled voice.
The odd accent.
The Dark Lord had a retainer!
Her dark mood momentarily evaporating, Ginny burst into laughter. That was an embarrassing moment for the scrapbook if there ever was one!
"What?" said Riddle, clearly irritated. He had been expecting compensation, or something. One moment, they were screaming at each, and fighting, and slapping or being slapped, but instead Ginny was laughing her head off at him. What had the world come to?
Imagine the Dark Lord! "Afada kedafa!" HAHAHAHAHHAHA!
Ginny clutched at her stomach, her imagination bringing fresh peals of laughter. "You – hahahha – have – a – hahahahahah!"
"What?" demanded Riddle again.
"HAHAHA! You have a retainer!" she giggled hysterically.
Riddle glared. "And what, pray tell, do you find so phenomenally funny about my dental care, Peregrine?" he snapped, his aloof and cold demeanour returning to defend his teeth.
Ginny assumed a face suitable to the grave of a respected gentleman. "Nothing," she said innocently, straight-faced, and then burst into loud laughter again.
"If all that you are going to do is show rude derision and mirth towards dental problems that are not my own fault, then I think I'll leave," said Riddle, his voice almost glacial.
"I'm being rude? I'm being rude? Says he, 'you couldn't be a vampress'! By all means, leave, Riddle – it would automatically make the party a hundred times better!" snarled Ginny.
"It took you a long time for that comeback, didn't it?" Riddle's voice was still arctic, and his teeth were gritted. "Careful, Peregrine. Your brain's too small to be let out on its own; it'll hurt itself."
"I assure you that it has company. My brain is babysitting yours!" Ginny growled. Her eyes suddenly narrowed as she realized that Riddle was totally out of place in the Great Hall. "Why are you here, Riddle?" Ginny said coldly. "Don't you have a ball to attend to? Or were you lying about liking the glitzy dresses?"
"I never said I liked the 'glitzy dresses'," replied Riddle scornfully. "It was the lesser of two evils."
"You're avoiding the question."
"What was the question, remind me?" Riddle – get this – Riddle was teasing her. Except that teasing was fun and light-hearted. And his sole purpose was to aggravate her endlessly.
"Why are you here?" snapped Ginny, losing her temper. She drew herself up to full height, and tilted her chin up in that angry way that her mother did – used to.
Riddle was silent. His dark, calculating gaze was flickering over her face, and then he looked into swirling hazel. There was a cold expression in them that chilled Ginny to the bottom of her spine. The insults were just about tolerable; the gaze struck more fear into her than her fear of time-travel, and she had been near petrified.
When he did speak, his voice was so surprisingly quiet than Ginny nearly missed it. "If you must know," he said, his voice low and barely audible, "I actually came to ensure you didn't have another spontaneous seizure in front of everyone, due to the fact that Madam Royce is stopping alcohol poisoning in the ball upstairs, and you would only be treated by a group of infantile and naïve twelve-year-olds."
Ginny knew in an instant that she would have much preferred to hear a lie, an insult, a quip, anything – than have him confess to her that he was real and human and had a heart and even cared for her.
Because that would make murdering him so much harder.
"I'll manage," replied Ginny shortly, locking her icy stare onto his in a challenge of dominance. Shockingly, he retreated almost immediately, and walked away without a glance backwards.
…
A/N: Ooh, cat-fight. Did you like the insert of memories? I love adding those. –squee- Thanks to my beta SilvanXan. Enjoy the rest of the fic! REVIEW! DO IT! NOW!
o00Bubbles00o: Wow! Thank you! Two massive reviews! I feel so loved. –hug- Well, bub, I can't tell you the answer to that (did you like me saying bub? Get it? Cos it's short for Bubbles… and cos it's a cool word?). HAHA! Er, yes, it is a romance fic (-squee-) And by the way, I am giving you the honour of all honours – I will include your words, later, in the fic! LOL! It's just because I have a really random chapter planned, and your words are funny. They'd fit well. Teehee. Thanks for the review!
Intricacy: Thanks so much! And, I'm not going to, sorry, because he doesn't like her. Well. You're not really supposed to know that yet. Because he does technically… but him being all loner-get-lost vibey, he is in a huge state of denial that he likes her (kind of like Ginny denying that she has a massive crush on Scott. But I didn't tell you that, either) and also he doesn't even know that he likes her. Because he doesn't recognize liking a girl… since he's never actually liked anyone before. Yeah. Thanks for the review, though!
SilvanXan: Teehee! Oh, fine, here – XXXX. Just to cheer you up. Lol. Anyway, if you've run out of betaing material, tell me.
vlucia: Yeah, I know! There seems to be this vibe saying: T/G WRITERS! UPDATE SLOWLY! All other good T/G fics are painfully slow. Meh. Thanks, I was really worried that Ginny was too OOC. I'll check out the fictionalley thingie. And yeah, I won't make them all quick in love. Don't you just hate the fics when they're like: 'hot guy. MEEP! Snogsnogsnog'. Bleurgh. Don't worry, this is about as slow as it gets.
XxRandomHeartxX: Thanks! Yayness! Same with my pen-name. I thought of it when I was ten. It was my username for neopets. LOL. Actually, I think it still is. Oh well. I know, isn't Scott just so dreamy? –sigh- Lol. Hope you like the rest of it!