A/N: Thanks for your reviews! Now, this chapter might seem a little angsty, but you have to remember that a) Riddle isn't feeling very well, so he's crankier than usual, and b) Ginny is all emotional because she's confused by little things that she's starting to feel for Riddle… Ooh…
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Forty-Two: P is for Prefect Mortification
"Prefect meeting tomorrow, after lunch," said Riddle. "And thank you." He lifted up the beaver, a bemused smirk curving his lips.
A smile twisting her own, Ginny dug in her pocket and held up the pale green stone. "Same to you."
As she descended the steps from his bedroom, pulling off the ridiculous Father Christmas outfit, she realised that she now had three close friends in 1958. Riddle was, admittedly, a slightly unpredictable wild card of a friend… but a friend all the same. And this made her the most worried that she'd felt in a very long time.
xxx
"Are you ready yet?" Grace asked boredly, examining her short, bitten fingernails. "We're going to be late for breakfast."
"Nearly…" Ginny mumbled, trying very hard not to poke herself in the eye with her stick of new orange eyeliner. "Whoa, Grace, this 'liner's really good. Thanks! I'm going to wear the gold one on New Year's Eve," she promised.
Grace beamed.
From Grace, she had obtained three sticks of eyeliner in lime green, bright orange and gold. From Alden, she had received two books – Destroy, Duplicate and Dominate The Dark Arts: Edition One and a Wizarding fiction book about a girl who found an evil necklace and fell in love with the boy trying to destroy her, called The Rock Talks. From Eleanor, a warm fleecy purple jumper. From Flora, a box of Honeydukes chocolate. From Antonia, a black chiffon scarf. And lastly, from Professor Dippet, a book titled So You've Decided To Travel Through Time.
Upon seeing this last gift, Grace spluttered with laughter. "Why did he get you that?" she asked incredulously.
"I have no idea," Ginny lied, tossing it into her trunk.
Stifling a yawn, Grace flopped back onto her bed and stretched; spanning the entire mattress. "I can't believe that we only have a week left of freedom," she said sleepily, rolling onto her stomach, reaching under her bed, and locating a slab of chocolate.
"Come on," Ginny urged. "I thought you didn't want to be late for breakfast."
The two girls headed up to the Great Hall, chatting happily. They found Alden, near the end of the table, and sat nearby. Ginny let Grace sit beside Alden, and she sat next to Grace.
"Hello," grinned Grace, turning pink as Alden kissed her cheek.
"Not in public!" Ginny exclaimed, pretending to shield her eyes. "I'm trying to eat, you two."
Alden raised his eyebrows. "I don't think that you, of all people, should have a problem," he commented.
"Considering that you're the one who set us up," Grace chipped in, sticking her tongue out at the redhead.
"Yeah, yeah," Ginny said absently, taking some waffles. "Whatever." She ate leisurely, enjoying the amiable conversation that had, for a while after the attack on Vander and Riddle, become scarce. Then, slinging her schoolbag onto her shoulder (she didn't have lessons, but she had to attend the Prefect meeting now; it contained parchment, quills, ink, and her patrol schedule), she said goodbye to them, and left the Hall.
Unsure if she was early, on time, or spectacularly late, Ginny glanced at a clock in a passing classroom.
Damn.
If she didn't hurry, she'd be late.
"Condolesam," she gasped out to the painting of Robin the Rich as she skidded to halt in front of him, having sprinted the majority of the journey from the Great Hall. "Sorry I'm late-" she stopped. "Has the meeting not started yet?"
Eleanor looked up at Ginny's loud entrance. She shook her head.
The redhead scanned the people on the sofas; dumping her bag on the floor and dropping heavily beside Antonia, she asked, "Where's Riddle?"
With a flicker of her gaze upwards, Eleanor said, "In his room."
Ginny frowned. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine. He said he'd be down in time for the meeting, but he's not feeling very well. I think we should just start without him," said Eleanor guardedly, shuffling the parchments that she held in her hands and laying them flat on the table.
He seemed fine yesterday!
… I think.
Flashing her mind back, Ginny recalled that he had seemed more tired than usual; less cynical and sarcastic, too. A pang of anxiety flitted through her, but she ignored it in favour of paying attention to what was going on at the Prefect meeting.
Apparently, while she had been zoned out and worrying about Riddle, an argument had started.
"I don't feel well, either but I came!" Jack Swithin was shouting angrily. Ginny had heard that, after the Yule Ball, he and Claude had broken up, and he was, allegedly, a total mess without his bossy girlfriend.
"Jack, sit down now!" Eleanor snapped, trying to maintain control.
"None of want to be here, but we can be bothered to bloody show up! I have more important things to do, but I came! And so can that stupid lazy bugger upstairs!" Jack bellowed, his face turning red.
Ginny knew what was going to happen before it did.
"No!" she cried as the beefy, and totally irrational blonde Slytherin wrenched himself out of his chair and stormed across to the stairs.
"JACK!" Eleanor yelled, but even she was smart enough to know that setting foot on the stairs was a bad idea.
A thunderous knocking on wood, and a sound like a door being kicked down ripped through the Head common room.
"Oh, sweet Merlin." Eleanor blanched. "Okay, everybody, defend yourselves, because-"
SMASH.
"Get the bloody hell out of my bedroom!"
Ginny panicked. Riddle was swearing.
Not good.
"You get your lazy arse down! None of us want to be here but-"
"Get – OUT!"
Swithin's got guts.
"No! I'm not going to-" Jack's bold, angry voice stopped. It was replaced by an evil cackle. "What the hell is that?"
Ginny's face drained of all colour. She could only imagine one item ridiculous enough to guarantee that malicious laughter.
"Get out now."
Riddle had stopped shouting, but now that Ginny thought about it… she preferred the shouting. The quiet, even, lethal venom in his low, slightly accent-tinged voice was psychologically terrifying enough for Ginny to dig her fingernails tightly into the material of her skirt.
"Okay, I'll get out…"
Ginny didn't like that tone. No. No, she didn't like it all. Jack! She pleaded silently. Whatever you're planning –
"I'm going… REEVE, CATCH!"
Silently, her mouth slightly open in horror, Ginny could only watch with wide eyes as a large plush beaver soared down the steps, bounced once with a high-pitched squik, and then landed in Scott Reeve's open arms.
"Swithin, where the hell did you get this?" Scott laughed incredulously.
White as a sheet, Ginny stared, dismayed, as the two arrogant arseholes blasted it back and forth with their wands.
The hat fell off.
Ginny closed her eyes.
Then footsteps sounded, storming down wooden steps.
Don't see it, don't see it, she silently prayed. Don't see it. Don't see it, please don't see-
"Hey, what's that?"
Shit.
Eyes still tightly shut, Ginny could only listen, as, over the furious thumping of Riddle's feet as he descended the stairs, Scott read out the paper.
In a high-pitched voice, he started, "Merry Christmas, Tom!"
The footsteps stopped. Ginny knew that he'd heard.
"Remember to shave! Tsk tsk!"
Scott and Jack burst into loud, raucous laughter at this.
"Who the hell is it from?"
Scott looked down at the parchment. His eyes bulged.
"ENOUGH!" snarled Riddle, finally storming out of the stairway. He snatched the parchment and the giant beaver from the two laughing idiots – the paper, he ripped in half before dropping carelessly onto the floor; the beaver, he threw into a corner of the room, where it squeaked morosely once before falling silent.
But Scott had already seen it.
"Ginny?" he said incredulously.
She opened her eyes to see nine shocked gazes sweep onto her face, and one pale, unwell-looking Riddle staring defiantly at the floor. The Prefect didn't even turn red; she just went grey, and ducked her head, hiding her face behind her left hand, which rested on her brow.
For a very long time, no-one spoke, moved, or even breathed.
Then Eleanor stood abruptly, gathering her papers, and said sharply, "This meeting has just been adjourned."
Not waiting for any other words spoken, mortified to the verge of tears, Ginny grabbed her bag and fled from the Prefect meeting.
Salty water blurring her vision, Ginny ran down the corridor, stumbling blindly over her own feet more than once, before darting into the nearest empty classroom and slamming the door behind her.
She hurled her bag at the wall, and then sat heavily on the floor, curling up and sitting miserably in front of the wooden-panelled desk.
Damn them all. Stupid Scott Reeve. Stupid Jack Swithin. Stupid Prefect stupid meeting. Stupid Tom stupid Riddle. Stupid. Damn them all.
She had no idea how long she sat there, wallowing in self-pity and distress, until a soft knock came on the door.
A glare furling her features, she firmly ignored the person asking to come in.
The smallest of sighs sounded from outside the door. "Open the door, Peregrine."
No! I'm not talking to you!
There was a pause. Then faint blue light streamed through the keyhole, and, with a soft click, the door swung open. Ginny didn't look up. The muted footsteps and the glimpse of very long, school robes-clad legs confirmed that it was indeed Riddle. He strode towards her and then stopped just beside her fragile, curled-up form.
"What do you want?" Ginny said into her crossed-over arms, atop her tucked-up knees, her voice subdued and snuffly.
Riddle didn't answer. He sat heavily upon a nearby table and looked at his long-fingered hands. "Peregrine, I-"
"Don't you dare tell me how embarrassed you are," Ginny growled.
"Peregrine, don't act like this doesn't affect me, too," Riddle snapped. "I'm not supposed to be that person!"
"What person?" Ginny asked coldly.
Riddle stood sharply. "The one with guitars and stupid poems – and a giant beaver, for God's sake!"
Ginny's thoughts were torn in two.
The first half of her brain was thinking dumbly, Poetry?
And the second half was screeching at how unbelievably selfish Riddle was being.
The second half won, and she leapt to her feet, fury clouding her features.
"I'm sorry!" she shouted at him. "I'm sorry for your stupid embarrassment! I'm sorry for destroying your stupid reputation! And I'm SORRY for caring enough to get you a sodding Christmas present!"
Again, the sense of despair and angry mortification was overwhelming enough to drown her; Ginny wrenched her bag from the floor nearby and stormed towards the door.
Suddenly, swiftly, Riddle reached out and grabbed her wrist; pulling her back so that she spun, stumbled and then somehow ended up approximately three inches from crashing into his Head Boy badge-adorned chest.
"I did not mean it like that," Riddle said, his voice soft and oddly strained.
Ginny stared down at her schoolbag, balanced beside her hip.
Another of the tiny sighs, like this ordeal wasn't just tiring for Riddle, but painful, too. "Pere-… Ginevra."
Reluctantly, Ginny lifted her eyes from her bag to Riddle's pale face. As always, his jaw was set and his face a smooth mask, lacking any distinguishing emotive language – his eyes, in stark contrast, dark pools of… of so many things.
Pain.
Actual concern.
The same humiliation that Ginny was sure reflected in her own eyes.
And one other thing that seemed to be present often in his icy gaze. Something unreadable and strange. Like a kind of great sadness. It hurt to see.
Ginny felt tears threatening again. Everything was so confusing about her life. Caring for her family's murderer in itself was enough to make her head spin. This, in addition to the endless mission of trying to play detective in the role of a killing. This, in addition to the pressure of studying for the NEWTs. This, in addition to having an entire school either trying to use her, mock her, or terrified out of their skins.
Her head was swirling and pounding.
She drew a deep, shuddery breath; tried to hold it; failed. The bewildered red-haired girl was in such a disarray of her own emotions that, without planning, or even thinking, she let out a short sob and threw her arms around Riddle's thin torso, hugging him so tightly that she probably cut off circulation, and burying her head into the worn material of his jumper.
Riddle tensed immediately. Then, when it apparently became clear to him that Ginny wasn't going to get off any time soon, he cleared his throat and falteringly placed his hands on her back. "Peregrine," he said quietly. "Peregrine."
Now her face went scarlet. "Sorry," she mumbled, letting go of him as though she'd been burned. She took a few steps back; into a safety zone, where she was in no danger of embarrassing herself. She looked up at Riddle.
His eyes were closed, and it was then that Ginny remembered that he was ill. Being perfectly honest, she would have been able to tell that he was sick regardless of having being told prior to seeing him. He looked the same as he had in St. Mungoes', though, of course, far less severe. Ashen face; dark stubble; mussed hair; grey around the eyes… and that tiredness with which he seemed to living lately.
"Riddle – Tom – are you… are you alright?" Ginny asked uncertainly.
The tall Heir of Slytherin tipped his head back, eyes still closed; after a pause, he lowered his head, cracked his eyes open, and murmured, "Fine…"
Cautiously, Ginny stepped closer. She peered up through her fringe at him. As a joke, she teased softly, "D'you want a hug?"
However, to her immense surprise, the tall young man half-leaning against a desk didn't snap at her a sarcastic no. He didn't say anything, but four months with Riddle had brought her a lot closer than anyone else could claim for their entire lives.
And so, she moved closer still and put her arms gently around him. Resting the side of her face on his arm, they stood together for Merlin knows how long, and there, for the second time in a week, Ginny found an inner peace that for so long had been missing from her young, eventful life.
xxx
A/N: Ahh. What I'd give to hug Tom Riddle… -sigh- Please review! Thanks to my beta SilvanXan.
xxx
storm-brain: Ah, well. I said that it was optional. You didn't have to read it.
Dstnd2travel: That it is.
MadeNew: Haha. Punish you, I must! Aw, thank you, especially since Grace is based on me! :D
KyraThePoop: Favourite ice-cream flavour? Er. Probably Rocky Road or Chocolate. Why? Thank you!
NamineFlower: Thanks! Don't die!
SiRiUsLyInLuV71: Er, not quite. But it'll be unexpected. I'll probably give it all away in the chapter prior to the kiss. Hm. I suppose that praise'll do.
Ricekrispies: Um. Is she supposed to show him? I hadn't planned that. Lmao. KILLER BEAVERS!
Courtney P: Aw, thank you!
Bewittching: Thanks!
X-XsiobhanX-X: Well, the rock is just… a rock. Like he said, Tom found it when he was ten on the cliffs near his orphanage. I hope it wasn't too angsty. Tell me what you think… -hinthint-
ShhImNotMVP: Yeah, I thought it'd increase the suspense a little… Bwahaha. I wondered if him having a guitar was a bit much. But don't worry… the guitar will disappear soon… Hehe.
Kallie: He sort of destroyed his reputation in this chapter. Not exactly a declaration of love, though.
chimis: I didn't make them suffer! Did I?
BDSanta2001: THAT MULLET WAS FREAKIN' AWESOME! And also…. HAHAHA! BEAVER AND… AHAHAH TROUSER… that was so funny. I liked the image you attached to the review.
Saene: WOW! You went to a HP thing as Ginny Peregrine! That's amazing! I feel so loved. What was the plot of the D/G fic, I could help you find it.
Gmmstoleurlife: Thanks!
DeadlyCreative: YIKES! Sorry, I felt like saying that.
The-Quoi: BEAVERS! Yazzah! (I stole that from Heroes, lol. D'you watch it?)
XevenOf9: Haha. That made me laugh. Thanks!
Exhexohex: Sorrryyy. It's coming sooooon, I promise. My exams are in two weeks… Meh. I'd love to date Nagini. An evil Horcrux snake is better than the guys at my school. –grumble-
XXX
NEXT TIME:
Hysterically happy, Ginny couldn't help but laugh with the sweet, untroubled ease that filled her with this one silly sing-song on New Year's Eve. It was too good to be true. "Kill…" Her blood ran cold.
"Tom?" she called. "Tom – TOM!" Her hair plastering to the sides of her face, and her fringe sticking to her eyes, she began to scream desperately into the wind. "TOM!"
XXX