A/N: Thank you! Lots of TMR-GAP. Well. That's basically all this chapter IS so… yeah. Teehee. I left you on a cliff-hanger. –clap hands gleefully-
Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wish it was.
The Letter P
Chapter Twenty: P is for Perfectly Capable
Unbeknownst to Ginny, the wall just beside where her elbow leant was a door, and it silently opened. She did not hear the opening of the door – Ginny heard someone breathing behind her. Alarmed, Ginny spun to see who had snuck up on her.
A tall, dark silhouette in the dark corridor that had opened up behind Ginny. It held a knife.
Ginny, eyes wide with terror, let out a loud, piercing scream, but before she could turn and run, a cold, long-fingered hand clamped painfully over her mouth and – PAIN. Black.
xxx
Eyes open.
The first thing she saw was darkness – a gloomy sort of chamber, with water dripping from the stalactites, suspended on the roof of the chamber. Statues of snakes, curving around the walls.
And Riddle, leaning over her.
Ginny screamed.
Riddle must have realized that he was not exactly a paranoid teenage girl's favourite thing to see looming over her when she wakes up, and backed off.
Panting, breathing ragged, and covered in a sheen of sweat and tears. Ginny sat up.
What the hell happened?
"How did you get here?" demanded Riddle, his dark eyes flashing like fire and lighting up the gloom. His words were laced with anger and – could it be possible? – edged with fear.
"What… I… get where?" croaked Ginny, still frightened. She looked around.
And instantly recognized where she was.
The pools of black water. The stalactites and stalagmites. The face of Salazar Slytherin, carved into the feature wall at the end of the dark chamber. The snakes weaving across the other walls.
The Chamber of Secrets.
"Tom, where are we going?" asked Ginny childishly as she walked down the long, narrow chamber. She was scared and she didn't like it down here. What was going on?
The tall, handsome fifteen-year-old ahead of her turned and flashed her a comforting smile. "Don't worry," he said, his voice soft and soothing. "It's safe. You're with me, remember?"
Oh yes. Ginny had forgotten. With her amazing friend, Tom, this older boy with an interest in her, and the answer to all of her problems with Harry – he'd never hurt her. He'd never let her be hurt. She would safe with him. Smiling still, Tom extended a hand. Blushing, Ginny slipped her thin fingers into his palm – she felt safer already.
"We're here," said Tom. He turned to her, letting go of her hand. His eyes were suddenly cold. "I'm sorry, Ginny."
"Sorry for what, Tom?" Ginny asked. She didn't like this chamber that Tom had brought her to, and was frightened by how Tom was looking at her. "Tom? Tom?"
His mouth snarled foreign words, and then pain was tearing through her. She was crying harder than she'd ever cried before, and screaming, "TOM!", screaming "TOM!", screaming "TOM!" –
"What? What – PEREGRINE!"
Ginny's eyes snapped open again. She was lying down again, fresh tears on her cheeks, and Riddle's angry, fearful eyes had only increased in expression – there was now bewilderment and curiosity.
"What did you say?" he asked, frowning.
"Er. Did I say something?" stammered Ginny.
"Yes," snapped Riddle, "if you hadn't, I wouldn't be asking about it. Now why did you say my name?"
Oh God. Please tell me I didn't ACTUALLY scream "Tom".
"I said your name?" asked Ginny fearfully.
"Yes," said Riddle, grinding out the word coldly from between his teeth. "'Tom'. You said 'Tom'." He stared at her, his calculating gaze scrutinizing her face carefully. "Why?"
"Look…" Ginny held her face in her hands and then roughly raked a hand backwards through her hair – in doing so, realizing that her hair had come out of its ponytail that it had been in at breakfast. "I… I don't know. Okay? I have no idea why… why I said that," she lied quietly.
Riddle's lips twisted; as if he was trying to work something out – he was nearly there, but it lay just out of reach… "How did you get here?" he asked, his voice scathing, but not cold enough to hide an edge of fear.
Ginny let loose a bark of cold, derisive laughter that held no humour. "D'you think I have any idea?" she said bitterly.
"We should get out of here," he said, standing smoothly and looking around.
Yeah, before your pet snake comes and decides its hungry? Good thinking.
Wisely reasoning that it was better to keep that line of thought to herself, Ginny leant back on her arms to push herself up –
PAIN
She let out a cry and fell back onto her back. Squeezing her eyes closed from automatically-created tears of pain, Ginny wrapped her hand around the source of throbbing fire on her arm.
"What's happening?" Riddle asked, moving towards her. "Peregrine, are you alright?"
"No," she bit out angrily. "If I was fine, d'you think I would have yelled and fallen over?"
Very irritatingly, Riddle looked almost amused by this sarcastic outburst. "Let me see," he said.
"How about no?" said Ginny snappishly.
"Peregrine, just because I'm a half-blood doesn't mean that I'm not decent at Healing," snapped Riddle, his voice turning cold again.
Forgetting her pain, Ginny stared at the Head Boy.
What?
But… Voldemort's a pureblood. He's paranoid about getting rid of Muggles and Muggleborns. He's a pureblood… I'm confused.
"You're a half-blood?" echoed Ginny incredulously.
Riddle's eyes narrowed. "Yes…" he said slowly. "Muggle father, witch mother. Is there a problem with that?"
… I'm so confused.
Muggle father… witch mother… he must be lying.
But he's not Voldemort yet. He doesn't hate Muggles yet, so why would he lie about his blood-status?
His steely gaze flickered down to where her hand was; rested on it for a moment, before his eyes widened slightly. He looked back up at Ginny, this time grave. "Peregrine, I really think you should let me see."
"Wh-" Ginny started, looking down at her clutching hand on her arm. Then she noticed what Riddle had – her blood-stained fingers; thick red liquid seeping through them.
The seventeen-year-old gasped, and pulled her hand away. It was covered in blood.
The knife. The guy who attacked me had a knife. But who the hell knocks me out, drags me down here, attacks me, and then leaves me alive? Something isn't right here.
Riddle knelt, moved her hand away, and gingerly looked at where it had been.
There was a long slash through the sleeve of her robes, and now her entire sleeve was stained crimson. Riddle peeled the cloth away (Ginny whimpered and bit her lip hard to stop from crying out again at the pain), revealing a long, deep, very straight cut on her forearm.
Why is that familiar, Ginny wondered, staring at it.
Then it hit her.
That precise place, on the forearm, was where the Dark Mark lay on Voldemort's followers.
Ginny looked up in alarm at Riddle, but then remembered. He had no idea how she had come here – it couldn't be him.
Well, I didn't remember nearly murdering Hermione, Colin Creevey or Justin Finch-Fletchey, either. Maybe he was possessed.
Who the hell would possess the junior Dark Lord? Hello, I think its supposed to be the other way around.
With a sharp inhalation, Riddle drew Ginny's attention back to reality. He roughly licked his lips, before saying darkly, "I don't know what did this, and I don't think we want to." He pointed his wand to the cut, and, non-verbally, wiped the blood away. Then he fished from inside his robes a pack of tissues and held it over the wound.
"D'you always carry tissues with you," asked Ginny, smiling weakly, "just in case you come across a copiously-bleeding Prefect?"
"Always," said Riddle. The corners of his lips curved into a wry smirk. Then he lifted his wand and, also non-verbally, as if to show off his intelligence, cast a charm to keep the tissues in place.
"Thanks," Ginny said weakly. She suddenly felt extremely tired, and got the feeling that more than ten minutes had passed since she had been attacked in the corridor.
Riddle stood – calm, smooth, and distant, as ever – and looked down at her. And then, just as Ginny was preparing for the struggle to her feet, he extended his hand loosely.
Momentarily bewildered, Ginny stared at it. There was a moment where she forgot everything except the ridiculousness of Tom Riddle – future Dark Lord, epitome of evil, cold-hearted arsehole – offering to help her up.
He was still waiting, though, and Ginny snapped back into reality. An unexpected and puzzling shyness colouring her cheeks, she reached up and curled her fingers around Riddle's long ones, and then his arm went taut as he pulled her to her feet.
"Can you walk?" inquired Riddle softly, and Ginny was surprised – alarmed – to hear concern ridging his slightly-accented voice.
"Mm-hm," Ginny mumbled. It was hard to talk; hard to think. She felt fatigued, and wanted more than anything to lie down with a squashy pillow and sleep for a thousand years. "M'fine."
"No, you're not."
"Riddle!" Ginny snapped, forcing each syllable out roughly past the haze in her head. "I am perfectly capable of walking."
The seventeen-year-old Slytherin's eyes flashed over her. "Okay," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. He made no move to start walking, and Ginny realized that he was waiting for her to walk first.
She was swaying, and she focused all of her concentration into not collapsing when she lifted her foot.
Foot… up… Good. Now. Foot… dow – crud.
Silently, Ginny crumpled. She screwed up her face in a wince, preparing for the pain that would doubtlessly come when her fragile, weak skull met the hard, polished obsidian. Briefly she pondered if she would actually smash her head in. However, gratefully, long arms swooped around her and she was caught, before being pulled back onto her feet.
"See, Peregrine, my definition of walking is being able to safely manoeuvre on your feet," said Riddle dryly, "preferably without collapsing."
Ginny wasn't taking any of it in. She was frozen in shock – she was in the future Dark Lord's arms. In his arms. Being held by Lord Tom Marvolo Evil-Arsehole-Horcrux Riddle Voldemort. That in itself was astonishing, but what really and truly shocked her into a state near that of being petrified was…
She was enjoying it.
What in the name of Merlin has this world come to?
Too tired to tear away from him, too tired to remind herself that it was Mini-Voldemort that she was practically cuddling – too tired to think – Ginny sighed, closed her eyes, and let Riddle guide her through the Chamber of Secrets.
There was nothing. Nothing - there was just the muted shuffle of Ginny's feet, the slow, deliberate, supporting steps of Riddle, his breathing ruffling her dark auburn hair, and the heavy silence that seemed to choke her in all of its dangerous serenity.
Creeeeak.
Wearily, Ginny opened her eyes. They were moving through a doorway that lead into a small, cramped room, filled with dusty books, darkened by the night sky outside, the silvery moonlight casting an eerie glow on every book, every shelf, and on the clock face that spoke one-fifty-nine in the morning.
Wait…
Ginny glanced behind her, over her shoulder. The door that they had just come from was closing – attached to the front of it was a bookcase, the same as every other, identical in every way, apart from the tiny, signature serpent carved into the wood on the third shelf.
To anyone who doesn't know what it means… it's just a piece of graffiti.
They were in the Restricted Section of the library. A feeling of age-old paranoia washed over Ginny, of waiting to be caught by Filch or Madam Pince. However, Filch was still a child in these times, and Madam Pince, as well.
Who knows? She might even be a student.
Promising to find out later as a little personal project, Ginny turned her thoughts back towards scanning the library for the current librarian Madam Crofton. "Is anyone here?" she whispered.
"I don't think so," Riddle replied, still looking around. He didn't lower his voice in amplitude at all, although it wasn't a problem because his normal manner of speaking was low and quiet. "It doesn't matter. If anyone does find us, I can say that you, on patrol, had reason to believe that a student was in here, after curfew, without permission, however didn't have the password to let yourself and sort the situation out yourself so called the nearest Head or teacher – namely, myself."
He came up with that himself? In what, half a minute? He's a better liar than I am, and that's saying something.
"Nonetheless, I would prefer not to be caught, as that would involve a long explanation and a thorough search of this level of the castle… and that is not something I can fit in my schedule," said Riddle coolly as they exited the library.
Why – what else in on your schedule at two in the morning? Ginny thought incredulously. Aside, of course, from venturing down into the Chamber of Secrets and finding mugged Prefects.
A thought struck her – nearly bowled her over – like lightning. Riddle had chanced upon her. But why did he want to go to the Chamber of Secrets in the dead of night? And was he really a character that she wanted to be wandering around in the dark with?
Hell no. Ginny thought of how, a few minutes ago, she had been snuggled up against him like he was her personal pillow, and shuddered.
"I can make the rest of the way on my own," said Ginny, though she was quite afraid of passing out in a hallway somewhere – more afraid of passing out where her mysterious attacker could find her. It was very dark, and Ginny wasn't sure if she had her wand.
"No, you can't, Peregrine. You're a total mess. May I remind you that I had to drag you in the right direction to the door of the chamber?" Riddle said coldly as they descended the dungeon stairs.
Red rose on Ginny's pale, gaunt cheeks.
I knew that would come back to haunt me.
Finally they both stopped before the bust of Salazar Slytherin that marked the entrance to the common room. Ginny was secretly glad that Riddle had accompanied her, though the trip had been uneventful.
"Ophiuchus," Ginny told the stone head, and the doorway slid open. Turning to Riddle: "You know, I was perfectly capable of coming on my own."
"Yes, Peregrine, and if my memory serves me well, you were also 'perfectly capable' of walking," Riddle said derisively, a mocking tone on the quote from Ginny. "I'm going to come with you."
"Aw, d'you love me really?" sneered Ginny, being overcome with a sense of loathing that probably could be traced back to her self-anger and having enjoyed cuddling him.
"No. The fact of the matter, Peregrine, is that I'd rather make sure that you got back to your little common room safely than have to deal with a mess in the morning after you get attacked again."
. What?
Ginny stopped dead in her tracks.
Riddle turned. "What's wrong?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
Her breath was hard in her throat. "Riddle," she said slowly, "I don't think that I ever mentioned being attacked before."
Now the Head Boy stopped as well. His dark, glacial eyes flashed to her as quickly as a spark of flame and stared into her own eyes; whatever civility they had maintained during their after-hours 'trip' had just gone down the toilet.
How the hell did he know? I never told him that I was attacked…
It was him
Don't be stupid! He had no idea how I got into the Chamber of Secrets!
It was him
When he finally spoke, his narrowed, almost-black eyes locked onto her, and his voice was hard and glacial. "Unless, of course, I am to assume, that you knocked yourself out and dragged yourself down into a secret chamber that no-one knows about, and sliced open your own arm for good measure?"
"You're right. Nobody knows about that place," Ginny replied. "How did you? Was it chance, you knowing that I'd be down there, and that I had been attacked?" Ginny's lip curled, loathing Riddle and his attitude.
"I didn't know that anyone would be down there. Anyway - it's simple logic," he said scathingly, folding his arms across his chest.
Eyes icy, and not believing a word of it, Ginny hissed, "Is it?" and then disappeared through the doorway.
xxx
A/N: Dun-dun-dun. Mahhahaa. Another lovely cliffie. Well, as not as big a cliffie as the last one, but…. WHA-E'VAHH!
Thanks to my beta SilvanXan. Review! Your only other option is death.
xxx
SwirlyL: Thank you! Aw, you love me really.
AppleC0re: I think we all hate Scott. He's just annoying and pointless. –stab- Thanks!
XevenOf9: Yeah, it is kind of un-wizardly. But it's less gross and mysterious and exciting to find a grubby wand. Lol.
LittleNK: Teehee. Tom did help her! Supposedly… Thank yew!
Spats: Thank you! Um. Mandatory make-over?
Saene: Lol. Interesting… -shifts away- Yeah, Scott did tell. 'Cos he's a loser. Anyway, here's the thing about saying that whole: "Lord Voldemort killed my family" thing… WOULD he understand? Oo Thank you! Meh. Goodbye. Lmao I'm on a Hogwarts forum thing as well. I'm a Slytherin halfblood. Like Riddle. YOU can go with Ginny, but I bags Riddle. Nyahaa!
ricekrispies: You can keep that theory, but watch out. Because you're kind of going to get owned. LOL. Thanks!
storm-brain: Dead? I don't think so. –poke- Scott told everyone. Thanks for the review…-squee-
XxRandomHeartxX: This chapter had lots and lots of Tom, I hope you liked it! Yummy. Burnt marshmallows. Isn't it true that our lives mainly consist of longing to give fictional characters a hug? –sniff- And these are the best days of our lives… kind of pathetic, really. LOL. Thank you!!
midnightblue17: Hm. Maybe. I can't tell you though. Lol. So you have to keep guessing. Thanks!
creative-writing-girl13: Yeah. Everyone hates Scott. What about the mysterious attacker, though?