A/N: More Tom here! This chapter is absolutely hilarious (well, I thought so). You'll see why. Enjoy… or die.
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Thirty-One: P is for Pulling Doors, Patronuses and Pity
His name was out of her mouth before she could think about it, and the Head Boy wheeled around to face her. His eyes were suddenly no longer bottomless, and swirling with raw emotion; his mask of I don'tgive a damn expression had fallen, just for a second. He stared at her for barely a second, before wrenching his gaze away, and turning his back on her, covering any breach in his guarded feelings as if it had never happened.
The first of the many events she had seen coming, in the water. And if it was true, then the next was soon approaching. And the next… Death.
xxx
"How are you, Riddle?" sneered Jack Swithin, pulling off his gloves. "Does your throat feel alright?" he and Scott snickered, walking to the table where Eleanor was setting out.
"Say, anyone up for some sweets?" said Olive Hornby sweetly; she and Antonia Durrell burst into loud laughter.
Scott laughed too, but then his eyes turned to Ginny; where she was standing, silently, tears still glowing at the corners of her eyes.
"Hey, are you okay?" Scott inquired, coming over to her. "You don't look so hot."
"Yeah, I'm fine," said Ginny, tugging the end of her scarf. "What do you care, anyway?"
"Doll, you're my ex. I have to protect you," Scott smiled.
"Protect me from what?" Ginny said heatedly. "Scott, the only thing that I'd ever require protection from is you!"
"And Malfoy," Scott added, unhelpfully.
"Malfoy isn't here right now, so I think I'll be fine," said Ginny coldly, taking her frustration at Riddle out on him. With a final, defiant glare, she headed over to the table where Eleanor was now spreading out the Christmas Ball plans and sank into the chair opposite the Head Girl.
"Right, have you got your plans, Ginny?" the pretty blonde inquired, shuffling through the parchment she held.
"Yeah, just in here," Ginny replied, fishing them out of her bag and placing them in the center of the round, and slightly grubby table.
"Ooh, hang on," said Antonia Durrell; lifting the parchment and siphoning off many layers of grease and dirt caked onto the table-top. She had an obsession with cleaning that came close to being OCD, but she never mentioned this, as firstly she wasn't certain that it had been discovered in 1958, and secondly, if the delicate dark-skinned Prefect wasn't obsessive-compulsive, then it would be very offending to say so. Seemingly happy with the state of the table, Antonia set the papers down in a neat, perfectly rectangular pile atop it.
I'd laugh so hard if she got a paper-cut now.
Smirking to herself despite her heavy mood, Ginny set out the plots for the Ball (she had decided, as a change of scene, to be involved in the Ball as opposed to the disco) and started to discuss her ideas.
It was to be the best Ball that Hogwarts had ever had. Everyone wearing the bright and fabulous. No-one would be undisguised, and for three hours, on Christmas Eve, everyone would have a chance to be someone they weren't – someone fabulous. Every girl could have their fairytale dress, and every boy could be a Prince Charming, to woo their queen-to-be.
Or whatever.
It would start at nine and end at midnight, like the Hallowe'en ball. There would be soft music playing for slow-dancing, and fast music for a slightly mosh-pit effect, for fun. There would be vast banquets of Christmassy food, and slightly alcoholic fruit punch (with Professors taking it in turns to stand guard – it wouldn't do to have the punch spiked, and then a room full of passed out teenagers, too wasted to respond). Mistletoe, multicoloured baubles, tinsel, and glitter galore.
This'll be the best Christmas ever!
"Brr, it's getting really cold in here," said Robert Harris. He stood, and crossed to the open door.
"No-"
"Don't-"
"STOP-"
Bang.
The door closed, and immediately it locked; a thousand wards swarmed into place.
Mia Brown ran to the door and pulled at the handle, to no avail. "Well done, genius!" she snapped, amber eyes narrowing. She slapped her fellow Gryffindor Prefect upside the head.
"Hey, how was I suppsed to know?" shouted Robert, rattling on the door.
"I DON'T KNOW," Mia yelled, and before Ginny could comprehend what had happened, the two Gryffindors were in an all-out brawl, squabbling and shouting at each, slapping, scratching, punching, poking, and pulling hair.
"HEY!" Eleanor yelled, jumping to her feet. "STOP IT!" she hurried across and hauled them apart from each other; despite her slight figure and average height, she was strong, and she broke the fight easily. "What the hell is your problem, guys?"
"He locked us in!" Mia shouted, pointing an accusatory finger and a narrow-eyed glare at the chubby, quiet-yet-fierce Gryffindor male.
"No, he didn't," Eleanor chided. "Calm down." She walked across to the door, gave them a see, this is how it's done look, and then pulled at the door.
Nothing happened.
She pulled harder.
Nada.
PULL PULL PULL.
"Give it up!" she snapped at the door, resting one foot on the door-frame and pulling as hard she could. This only resulted in the handle snapping off, and her catapulting backwards, and landing on her bottom, several feet away. From her position on the floor, she jabbed her wand at the door and cried, "Alohamora!"
Nothing.
"Aperio!"
…
"Obviam!"
…
"Ah," she said casually, after a moment of silence. She swept her blonde fringe out of her eyes. "Robert has indeed locked us in."
"WELL DONE, DOOFUS!" Mia yelled, launching herself at Robert.
"STOP IT!" Eleanor wrenched them apart again. "Stop it! You – are – Gryffindors! Save the fighting for the Slytherins!"
"Hey!" said Jack and Ginny indignantly; Riddle remained silent.
"No offence," she added hastily. "Now then." She smoothed out her coat and skirt, and drew herself to full height. "There is no need to panic. I'll send a Patronus up to the school, and while we are waiting for someone to arrive and get us out of this ridiculous mess, we can continue with our meeting."
There were murmurs of agreement and mutinous mutters aimed at Robert. Eleanor smiled brightly at them all, and then waved her wand, eyes squeezed shut, saying clearly, "Expecto patronus!"
For a moment nothing issued from the tip of her wand but faintly glowing sparks; then, as though stepping down from a stage, a small polecat emerged, and landed lightly on the floor. It licked its paws before looking up at the Head Girl expectantly.
"Fetch a Hogwarts Professor – any. Give them the following message," she paused, "'hello, Professor, this is Head Girl Eleanor Fionn. Riddle, the Prefects and I are unfortunately trapped in the Hog's Head, in Hogsmeade. If you could please Apparate over and help us out of this situation as soon as possible, that would be greatly appreciated. Thank you'," she paused again, and then, deciding that her little speech needed nothing else, nodded at her Patronus.
The polecat sat back on its hind-feet, blinked its beady eyes, and then scampered away, disappearing into thin air.
"Right. Prefect meeting." Eleanor headed back to the table. As she sat down, she commented sarcastically, "By the way, Riddle, thanks for helping."
"It was no trouble," said Riddle quietly and icily, flashing her a shadowy look from the corner of his eye.
Sensing that the seventeen-year-old was in a darker mood than usual, Eleanor didn't reply to this, and turned to the next page of the plans for the Christmas Ball.
Oh, what kind of horrible person have I created, Ginny thought in despair, looking at Riddle's hollowed face, and thinking of how much progress had been made before she screwed up.
Wait, she suddenly realised. Progress towards what? My goal was – is - to kill him. How is making friends with him progress?
Confusion – panic – worry – and a total bewilderment – all flooded Ginny to the point of her hands started to tremble again. She had lost control of all her emotions… as well as all of her sense.
The Prefect meeting continued, and for about half an hour, the problem of being trapped in an abandoned bar was forgotten totally. Then the meeting was adjourned, and they sat back, wondering if anyone had got their message.
"Shall we send up another one?" asked Ginny. "Just in case they didn't get it. Riddle?" She used his surname carefully, threading it into her sentence, as though just half an hour ago she hadn't been pleading Tom.
The Head Boy didn't reply; didn't even look at her.
Very quickly, as though trying to hide something, Eleanor said, "He doesn't want to right now." She glanced at him.
What… surely arrogant, look-at-me Riddle would simply love a chance to show off his intelligence and magical power –
Unless he can't do it.
It was an idea that barrelled into Ginny at high-speed. It made perfect sense. Eleanor, covering for him, because she knew that he didn't want anyone to know that there was something he couldn't do. But why not?
Happy memories.
A rush of Ginny's most dangerous emotion swelled into her heart – pity. Riddle couldn't perform a Patronus because he didn't have any happy memories.
"I'll do it," she said suddenly, having an idea.
Eleanor frowned. "Do you know how?" she asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Ginny shrugged, as if it was nothing. She stood, and turned towards the table; looking quickly over the face of each person at the table, and landing finally on Riddle, who was watching her silently, head bowed, through his thick fringe. Twirling her wand between her fingers, she delivered the speech that she prayed the dark young man would understand:
"I have many happy memories. It just sometimes takes a while to remember that they're there," she said softly, and, daring herself on, looked into the dark, impassive eyes fixed on her. Then, she whispered, "expecto patronum."
"WE WON!" Ron yelled, holding aloft a silver Quidditch Cup, as Harry entered the common room. Ginny ran towards him, ready to tease him and say that they could win without him, and then suddenly his head ducked and he kissed her, properly, just as she'd –
A blade of grass. "Slytherin colours!" Ginny hooted, and skipped away, laughing her head off. A few metres away, where she knew that she was safe from his death-glares, she turned and grinned at him. "Well?" Riddle looked up from the grass to her face. Strangely, he didn't look disgusted or angry. A bemused expression flickered in his eyes, and one corner of his mouth twisted in a half-smile -
A white light blossomed from the tip of her wand, and from the light stepped a fox. It twitched its ears, swished its tail, and then looked up at its mistress.
"Er – go up to the castle and fetch a Professor. Tell him or her that the Heads and the Prefects are trapped in the Hog's Head," she stammered, trying to get past her shock – a happy memory, and the one that had come was not one of Harry, or of her friends while they were still alive…
…but of Riddle.
Shaking these thoughts, she sent her Patronus away and sat down in her seat again. "So," she said, "what now?"
"I have an idea." Eleanor's eyes were sparkling like polished jewels, and her mouth was curving into a grin. "Think about it. No-one is coming to get us… we're trapped… in a pub… an abandoned pub… with lots – and I mean lots – of Firewhiskey."
Now Riddle lifted his head. "Fionn, are you insane?" he said coldly. "You're supposed to be Head Girl. You're supposed to set an example."
"Well." Eleanor said, chewing her lower lip. Then she crowed, "You can set an example!"
There was an outburst of cheering and whooping, and suddenly nine teenagers were scrambling frantically to the bar, and grabbing as many bottles of Firewhiskey as they could carry. Ginny followed their lead delightedly, scooping warm bottles into her arms and stumbling back.
"Fionn, have you forgotten that the Professors will be coming soon?" snapped Riddle. "Of course, it'll look fantastic for your Head Girl-ship and the Prefect-ship of the others, finding you lot sprawled out on the floor, utterly wasted."
"You just don't know how to have any fun!" Eleanor fired up.
"Eleanor!" Ginny hissed urgently, knowing that bellowing at an angry Riddle was not a good idea, grabbing the blonde girl's elbow.
"I do not care for fun!" Riddle snarled. "I'm merely interested in keeping my position as Head Boy! I refuse to take part in such activities not only foolish, but also incredibly childish."
"Fine, then!" Ginny yelled, tearing past Eleanor. "You don't have to! You can sit in the corner, all by yourself, and have an absolutely spiffing time staring at the wall! And if you're so bloody concerned about us not getting in trouble, then you can have the fabulous job of wiping up vomit, picking us up, and picking apart drunken brawls! Fun, fun, fun – no, of course! I forgot! You don't have fun!"
"Geez, Ginny, okay, you can stop now-"
"I think he got the point-"
Riddle stood sharply, towering over her. "Don't you dare," he hissed at her vehemently.
"Yeah, play the look-at-me-I'm-taller-than-you card!" Ginny spat scornfully. "After all, it is all that you have going for you!"
Shockingly, Riddle did not start snarling, or worse, shouting. His voice dropped down to a low, dangerous tone. "Well, then, I suppose that any civility between you and I has just been rather spectacularly destroyed, hasn't it? As well as, of course, anything you said in Honeydukes."
"What I said in Honeydukes still stands," said Ginny fiercely. "Whether or not you decide to pay any heed to it whatsoever its your decision entirely." Aware of everyone watching her, she lowered her voice so that only Riddle and herself could hear her words, before saying softly, "I truly meant it, and I truly am sorry."
For a moment, she thought that she saw something flash in his eyes, but then they merely narrowed at her, and he turned his back on her.
A sigh weaved from Ginny's throat, and she turned back to the Firewhiskey. It was what she needed – something to help her forget that Riddle hated her, and why that made her unhappy.
She downed it in one.
Her senses blurred.
Whaaaa…?
xxx
"Okay, Scott's turn," said the slurred voice of Eleanor Fionn, swaying at her position, sitting inelegantly on the floor. "Druth or tare?"
"Truth or dare," Antonia corrected, for the thousandth time, also sounding as though she was talking through a mouthful of beads.
"Hmm." Scott rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "DARE!" he crowed, punching his hand in the air so enthusiastically that he fell over.
"Yeaaahh!" the group of drunk teenagers cheered.
"M'kay!" Eleanor chirped. "You can… you can… kiss someone!" she declared, and then burst into side-splitting laughter. She suddenly became sombre, and added, "Lips or cheek. Or face. Or foot." She found this equally hilarious.
"Woooop!" Scott crawled awkwardly into the center of the circle, and fell promptly in Jack Swithin's lap, before continuing on his way. "Lydia!" he declared. "I shall kiss you."
"YAYY!" giggled Ginny, who had realised early on in the game that this meant her. She hiccoughed once, and then threw her arms clumsily around the Ravenclaw's neck, planting a long and sloppy kiss on his lips. When he pulled away, she shrieked, "Let's dance!"
She slowly got to her feet, and then began to stagger around the room, laughing hysterically and waving her arms around in an ungainly fashion. "Do the Lydia dance – boom cha, boom cha. Do the Lydia dance – boom cha, boom cha," she sang tunelessly, drifting around the room, kicking her feet out and spinning madly everywhere.
"YEAH!" Eleanor stood as well, and joined Ginny in spinning, whirling, shrieking, and kicking.
Within moments, all of Prefects were dancing drunkenly around the Hog's Head, each singing totally different songs and dancing totally different dances, all, however, consisting of the words 'Lydia dance'.
"Do the Lydia dance – boom cha, boom cha. Do the Lydia dance – boom cha, boom cha."
"Put your left nose in, and your scrambled egg out – do the Lydia dance and spiiiin!"
"WEEEEE! LYDIA DANCE!"
"Humpty Dumpty, munch munch, Lydia does the dance and weeee, all the King's horses and all the King's men munch munch!"
And so on.
"Mahahhahahha!" laughed Ginny, and then suddenly the world spun and she found herself lying face-down on the floor. This she found even more funny. "MAHAHAHAA!"
"How'd'you geddown there?" Jack sneered, and then there was a thud and everyone was gleefully collapsing, thinking that this was the next part of the Lydia dance.
Ginny lurched into a standing position, stumbled a few feet sideways, and fell into the seating area. Luckily, she landed on a very soft, very solid and very familiar cushion. She blinked up at the cushion. It was glaring at her.
"Hello," she cooed enthusiastically. "Would you like a hug?"
"Peregrine, get off, for God's sake."
"Well, you're just a party-pooper, you are!" Ginny said crossly, frowning up at the mean glarey cushion. "And d'you know why?"
"Pray tell, why?"
"'CAUSE YOU'RE PARTY-POO!" Ginny shrieked, and then she rolled off of the cushion, landed on the floor, and started to crawl, army-style, across the room. "Myum myum myum."
"I see the way you eat your newspaper!" Eleanor sang, performing an ungraceful pirouette. "No-one realises how normal you are! Porridge, mm yes! I am the new cancer! I am so surreptitious, you don't notice meeeeee! My friend, my enemy, shakakakaka LYDIA DANCE!"
"My turn," said Ginny decidedly and very spontaneously, drawing herself to full height. "Truth."
"Yeah! Errr…"
Robert Harris scratched his head.
"Hm. Whoooo… d'you think is the nicest looking out of all of us here?"
Olive glowered at him from the corner. Definitely an unhappy drunk.
"Ooh!" catcalled Antonia.
Ginny frowned. Then, with a beam plastering across her features, she cheered, "Riddle!"
A silence fell.
Well, as silent as drunks could get. There was still the odd hiccough, and raspy breathing, occasionally punctuated by giddy laughter.
"What?"
Ginny turned to the voice that had spoken. "Yesh, Riddle," she slurred at him, hands on her hips. "That's what I said. Because you… you are seeeeexyyyyyy!" she sang, terrifyingly high-pitched. "Mm-hmm, yeah, wooo!" she twirled in an ungainly circle. "'Cause your eyes are all glowing and you're like…" she stopped, trying to think of a word to describe him. "BIG!" she shouted, squeezing her eyes closed and then boggling them out, as if to show how truly massive he was. Then she said solemnly, "You are the goddess of insects."
She grinned around at them all, especially at the still-staring ex-cushion that was Riddle, before demanding, "Ask me again."
"Okelie-dokelie-ukelele… Whoooo… would'you get involved with at Hoggie-Hoggie-wartie-wartiesss…?"
"Well, duh!" giggled Ginny. "I'm already taken."
"REALLY?" yelled Eleanor enthusiastically.
"By who?" sneered Olive Hornby.
"Alden Philips," she chirruped. "Didn't you know?" she gave a high-pitched giggle, and then promptly downed the majority of her Firewhiskey bottle. "Yum yum yum!" she yelled, jumped to her feet –
Riddle was staring at her, his eyes dark and weeeirrrrd.
A thousand crazy urges… weeeeee –
THUD.
She let out one last manic giggle before the world went dark.
xxx
A/N: Haha. Funny. That was nice and long, wasn't it? Now pay me back by reviewing, please. Thanks to my beta SilvanXan.
COMPETITION:
"I see the way you eat your newspaper!" Eleanor sang, performing an ungraceful pirouette. "No-one realises how normal you are! Porridge, mm yes! I am the new cancer! I am so surreptitious, you don't notice meeeeee! My friend, my enemy!"
Those are song lyrics from various songs. If you can correctly tell me the bands who wrote those songs, I will reward you by writing a oneshot of your choice (romance/humour/parody/angst, whichever you want). If you can guess all of the SONGS correctly, you will get a smooch from a fictional young Dark Lord of your choice and two oneshots.
Xxx
audrhole: Aw, thanks! I know, isn't Tom just lovely? I was horrified when the HBP destroyed my secret little image of him being lonely and misunderstood. Meh.
BDSanta2001: Your review made me laugh – thanks, I needed it!
creative-writing-girl13: Thanks! It feels better now, though.
Saene: Wth? Flying cat? That gave me a random burst of hysterical laughter, it was so spontaneous. Anyway. Yeah, I like my sweets to behave themselves. I was hoping that Ginny wasn't too OOC by nearly crying when Tom was shouting at her, but seemingly not. Thanks!
chimis: Poor Tom indeed. –hugs-
ShhImNotMVP: Thank you! Whatever will Ginny do now?
SiRiusLyInLuV71: -sigh- What, indeed?
Leah: I updated, are you happy? –hopeful grin- I know, he was so cute, and then he went all angsty! Gr. Thank you so much!
storm-brain: Why are you singing? –frown- I don't understand. Lol!
Josephine Sawyer: Hitler? You just compared Tom Riddle… to Hitler? Warped, I tell you. Warped. Lol, just joking.
XxRandomHeartxX: Tom was fairly big in this chapter, but they didn't make up. Sorreee. I love them too, they're so cute. Because she's bright and he's so dark, and he's so tall and she's so short, and she's popular and he's a loner, and they're both sort of fierce but smart. And they just want to be loved. –pout-
Xxx
Ow, I'm in pain… I had try-outs for my school athletics team and I twisted my ankle. Meh. –pout-. Ouchie.