A/N: THANK YOU! Sorry, still no review-replies. I'll get around to it, I promise. I've been really busy, and replying takes so much time. I'm sorry. This chapter has interesting references to other fics… hehe. It's quite sweet, but quite short.
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Forty-Nine: P is for Predictable Pages
"What have I done wrong now?" Ginny said angrily. "As far as I'm concerned, all that I did was accidentally kiss you. And if you're avoiding me because of that, then I mean you every offence when I say that that's just really pathetic."
The bewildered redhead stared at the space where he had just been. Then, thinking furiously, she tried to think of what she could have said – or done – or even thought about doing – to upset Tom so. She drew a complete blank. Now feeling awful for calling him pathetic when something must be really troubling him, Ginny sank down and sat dejectedly on the stairs, staring sadly ahead. What a mystery that boy was. And what she'd give to find out why.
xxx
She wasn't ready to lose him yet.
Nervous twitches hit her like thunder as she pulled on her dungarees. She shouldn't do this. Hell, she couldn't. Taking a deep breath, she sat on her trunk and tried to calm herself down.
"Hey, are you okay?" Grace asked, looking concerned.
Ginny nodded. She took another breath before standing. With as much confidence as she could muster, she grinned at her friend, and then set about twining her hair into two thick scarlet plaits. "I'm fine," she said.
The brunette didn't look convinced, but she shrugged, let it slide, and returned to her favourite Saturday past-time of curling up with a good book. Today, Ginny observed, was a Muggle novel named…
"Isn't that mine?" Ginny asked, pointing at the book. "I think Alden got me that book."
Grace went pink. "Well. Yes."
"You can read it," Ginny said dismissively. "Just don't tell me what happens. I haven't finished it yet."
"Okay," Grace agreed. "I won't tell you anything," then hiding behind her book, she muttered, "except that Dago Manfy dies on page 184."
"WHAT?" Ginny yelled, leaping onto the bed and attacking Grace. "Give me that! He does not die!"
"He does," Grace insisted, trying to wrestle the book away from an insane Ginny. "Page 184, I tell you. He gets killed by-"
"DON'T TELL ME!"
"-a rabid monkey."
"What?" Ginny gave her friend an are you crazy look. Then she snatched the book and danced away with it. She flipped angrily through it.
Page 184… page 184… aha.
She scanned the text in horror.
And then, with a roar, the gorilla advanced on Dago. "NO!" Guinevere screamed. "DAGO, MY LOVE!" Then, claws flashed, blood flew, and the handsome young man fell to the floor. Guinevere screamed again. But Dago would be okay, she told herself, he'd get up any minute now. However, little did she know that he'd never move again.
Ginny gasped. "Dago!" she cried, dropping the book in shock.
"Sheesh, don't mistreat the book," Grace said irritably, picking it up off the floor and returning to her bed to read it.
"Why?" Ginny howled. "Why? Why do they always kill the pretty one? It couldn't just be Harold or Rhun, oh no, it had to be the pretty one. MEEH!" she hid her face in her hands.
"Don't worry, he'll probably come back to life," Grace predicted from behind the book's pages. "This story is kind of predictable." She paused. "And very false. Everyone knows that gorillas don't roar."
Ginny rolled her eyes. Deciding to grieve the death of the best-looking fictional character in the book The Rock Talks later, she bid Grace farewell and then left the dormitory.
xxx
"Condolesam."
"Oh, have you taken to coming up and asking politely?" Robin the Rich sneered from atop his fat grey horse. "Decided that sprinting up and bellowing at me was getting a bit boring for your taste?"
Ginny scowled. "Just open the stupid common room," she said, annoyed.
Robin the Rich huffed indignantly, but swung his painting forwards.
"Thank you." Ginny made a face at him, and then stepped through the portrait-hole. Eleanor wasn't in the common room, she knew – she'd seen the blonde Head Girl heading outside with a gaggle of her friends. It was better that way. She couldn't really do what she was planning with Eleanor listening.
Weaving through the intricate maze of plush sofas and stacks of books, Ginny made her way across to the Head Boy's stairs. Being gripped again by that age-old phobia of being ripped to pieces by Tom in a very bad mood, she drew in a very deep breath before venturing up the wooden steps.
Okay, here we go.
The redhead bravely knocked on the door.
No-one answered.
She knocked again.
Still no reply.
"Tom?" she called in. "Well, I've probably just cemented all reason for you not coming to answer the door – oh great, it's Peregrine." She gave a short laugh. "Tom, can you come out? I know you're in there."
Silence.
"Please answer the door!" Ginny said to the wood of the door marked Head Boy – Tom Riddle in swirling letters. "I even have a big speech prepared, but it's not going to work if I have to say it to a door."
She knocked again.
"Hello?" she tried. No reply came, and she sighed. "Fine." A pause… an inhalation… "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Tom, for all these problems I've caused for you. I imagine that your life was probably a hell of a lot easier before I arrived, sticking my nose in everything and getting in the way. It seems," she said, honestly, quietly, "that all I've done since I got here is embarrass you. Me passing out and having to get you to carry me… the Hogsmeade incident… me and my stupid beaver… and now this."
You can do this.
Ginny boldly plunged onwards.
"And I really am sorry… if I could take back all the stupid things I've done… or said… or wanted to say – then I would. Seriously." Ginny stressed the last word. It was the only way that she could think of proving to him that her apologies were genuine. Subtle, she was not. But hey, she could try. "Er. So… I was actually coming to try and ask… um. Considering that tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day-trip, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join me. You know, the same sort of thing as last time. Except minus the whole me-poisoning-you thing. And then also minus the big fight that we had, and then getting locked in the Hog's Head and getting wasted to the point of passing out," Ginny added, grimacing. "That wasn't good."
Still no response.
How stubborn are you?
"If you don't want to, then I – um – I get the message. And… I am sorry, and… well. That's it really, so please open the door," Ginny pleaded one last time.
Silence.
"There's a fire!" Ginny yelped. "Help me, Tom, I'm burning alive!"
Absolutely nothing.
Screw you! I could be dying out here!
She pushed at the door and peered through a crack. She couldn't see anything. In fact, it was completely dark. Tom was probably sulking in the shadows. "I'm going to cry," she sing-songed into the room, setting her lower lip into a pout-
"Well, we couldn't have that, could we?" a voice said from her.
Ginny yelled out, frightened; whirled around so fast that she forgot she was on stairs, stumbled, fell. With the world blurring around her, she crashed down several steps and then finished in a heap on the stair just above where the speaker was. She stared, dizzy, at a pair of extremely long shins.
"You're supposed to be in your room," she said crossly to the shins.
"Yes, and you're not supposed to be on my stairs. I think you'll find it's a fair contradiction," Tom's shins said – no. Shins couldn't talk – said Tom. Then a pale, long-fingered hand came into Ginny's line of view, and she pulled her own hand out from beneath her, took the hand, and was pulled to her feet.
Tom's lips were curved into a bemused smirk; his arms folded.
"Er. Sorry. I'll just…" she faltered, words failing her. "I'll just go." She bit her lower lip anxiously. "Sorry. Bye." Without any further indecisiveness, she hurried away, down the steps. Near the bottom, she was stopped.
"Wait."
Ginny paused, on the second stair from the last. She turned and looked up at the tall, dark-haired young man on the stairs above.
Tom seemed to be hesitating. Then, he said quietly, "I heard your speech."
"Oh." Red flooded Ginny's face faster than she ever thought was humanly possible. She didn't have anything to say to this latest comment. She fidgeted awkwardly with her hands, behind her back. "Okay, then." Running out of small-talk to make, she turned away again.
"Peregrine?"
Please let me go! Ginny swivelled back to face him, head tilted slightly in question.
After a short pause, as though summoning courage – don't be silly, Ginny reprimanded herself – Tom said slowly, "Hogsmeade... that's tomorrow, at half past twelve, isn't it?"
Confused, Ginny replied, "Yeah."
Tom nodded. "I suppose that I'll see you there, then."
Ginny blinked. Huh? Then she understood, and reddened further, though a grin cracked her freckled features. "Okay." She turned and bounced down the final step.
"Peregrine-"
"Will you just let me leave?" said Ginny exasperatedly, smiling broadly despite this.
"Never," Tom said coolly.
"You wanted something?" Ginny asked, rolling her eyes.
Tom took a breath. "Apology accepted."
Ginny's beam reached her ears. "Can I go now?" she teased.
The Head Boy shrugged indifferently, and the redhead at the bottom of his stairs skipped away, grinning as though her birthday had come early. She hadn't lost him yet.
xxx
A/N: YAY! Sorry, I'm really hyper because I know what's going to happen in a few chapters' time and YOU DON'T! Please review!
XXX
Next Time:
"I see." Grace raised her eyebrows. "Can I inquire as to whether the companion in question for this non-date happens to possess a title rhyming with Bomb Fiddle?"
"But-" Ginny moved her eyes from Tom's face to the cloak, unsure if this was really happening – the future Dark Lord being chivalrous and selfless.
XXX