A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I'm so sorry that the last chapter was so late. But the next-next chapter will SO make up for it! And by the way there's censorship in this. Because I have a phobia of certain words. Call me weird, but whatever…
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Fifty-Eight: P is for Proud
There was a unanimous click of lamps being turned off, and then the dormitory was plunged into darkness, save for the flickering light of Ginny's own bedside-lamp. Glancing at the two other Slytherin females, Ginny retrieved the parchment, opened it, and investigated what words lay inside. Her breath caught.
Ginny didn't know what to say; even what to do. It was so lovely that it made the corners of her eyes sting. She gave an exhalation of an emotion she couldn't put into words, and then flopped down onto her pillow. She clicked her lamp off and slid the letter back under the plump cushion that her head rested on. And then she smiled into her blankets and fell asleep.
xxx
"Wakey wakey, rise and shine," Grace called in a sing-song voice, leaning over the sleeping form of a redhead, huddled under blankets. "Time to get uuuup!" she sang.
"Hooray," mumbled Ginny blearily. "Because, of course, the first thing I want to hear in the morning is the sound of a cat being run over."
"What did you say?" Grace frowned, furrowing her brow.
"Neffermin'." Ginny buried her face into her pillow.
"Get up," Grace complained.
"Dunwanne."
"Up. Now."
"G'wayshmey."
"Excuse me?"
"Go away, smelly!" Ginny yelled, sitting up and hurling her pillow at Grace – who ducked – the pillow kept going – and hit a bewildered Professor Slughorn in the face.
Grace gasped.
Ginny swore.
"Well!" Slughorn straightened his robes with an affronted huff. "That'll be a detention on Wednesday night for the assault of a teacher. And shouldn't you be getting out of bed?" (Grace gave the other Slytherin a smug look.) Slughorn self-consciously patted his gingery moustache, and then strode away, back up the stairs.
"Thanks a lot," Ginny grumbled. "You know he hates me." She sent a baleful look at the brunette, before rolling out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom. "Go up to breakfast without me," she called around a mouthful of toothpaste. "I might take a while."
"Okay, then."
A moment later, Ginny re-emerged, looking fresher and more awake than she had done when she had entered the salle de bains. She looked around; Grace had heeded her words and already left. The Prefect dressed quickly and headed up the stairs.
However, she never even made it to breakfast, because, as it turned out, neither had Grace or Alden, and their lack of eating would the undoing of her own hungry stomach.
"What is wrong with you?" Grace snapped. "What, are you PMS or something?"
"See?" Alden yelled, totally un-Alden-like. They were standing in the center of the Entrance Hall, bellowing at each other. "This is exactly what I mean! You're always cracking stupid jokes when it's totally inappropriate!"
"That's just part of who I am!" Grace said defensively.
"Well then, I DON'T LIKE WHO YOU ARE!" Alden bellowed, seeming to completely lose his temper.
Grace was silent. She gaped at him and then came up with a small, shocked stammer of "w-what?"
"I'M SICK OF IT!" Alden shouted. "EVERYTHING! IT'S ALWAYS SO EMBARRASSING FOR ME!"
"WELL, I'M SORRY!"
"YOU HAVE NO IDEA! I'M THE LAUGHING STOCK OF THE WHOLE BLOODY HOUSE BECAUSE MY GIRLFRIEND IS OLDER THAN ME – TALLER THAN ME – AND REALLY WEIRD!"
"YOU SAID YOU DIDN'T CARE!"
"YEAH, AND YOU SAID THAT YOU DIDN'T CARE ABOUT ME GETTING YOU FLOWERS! AND OF COURSE, THAT'S WHY YOU HAD A BIG SULK AND REFUSED TO TALK TO ME WHEN I DIDN'T GET YOU ROSES!"
"EVERY GIRL LIKES FLOWERS!"
"HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" Grace was absolutely screeching now as well. "TO BE HONEST, I'M RUDDY SICK OF YOU! EVERYTHING YOU DO WRONG IS MY FAULT, BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO (censored) PROUD!"
Alden was turning red.
"PROUD?" Alden laughed. Cold and humourless. It sent a chill down Ginny's spine. "IS PROUD FEELING STUPID WHEN YOU'RE IN THE PUB AND YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S GULPING FIREWHISKEY WHILE YOU DRINK BUTTERBEER LIKE SOME TEN-YEAR-OLD? IS PROUD PRETENDING NOT TO KNOW YOUR GIRLFRIEND FOR YOUR OWN SANITY WHEN SHE STARTS TO DANCE DRUNKENLY ON THE TABLES? IS THAT PROUD?"
"YOU KNOW THAT I ACT STUPID SOMETIMES!" Grace countered. "YOU SAID YOU DIDN'T GIVE A DAMN THAT I WAS UNIQUE AND ORIGINAL AND HEY, A BIT KOOKY SOMETIMES-"
A crowd was gathering. Ginny tried to get them to calm down. They ignored her.
"KOOKY? IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL IT? GRACE, YOU'RE NOT ORIGINAL OR UNIQUE OR KOOKY – YOU'RE WEIRD! YOU'RE A TOTAL FREAK SOMETIMES AND IT'S EMBARASSING!"
Grace stopped shouting. Oddly, no tears were in her eyes. Her expression was hard. "I thought that you knew that, and didn't care," she said. "I thought that you said that it was one of the things you loved about me."
"Yeah?" Alden sneered, and, for the first time, Ginny saw the Slytherin in him. "I lied."
Now Grace laughed; a short snort of disbelief. "You don't lie, Alden, you're too much of a (censored) goody-two-shoes," she said icily.
"Goody-two-shoes this," said Alden coldly. "I don't give a flying (censored) about you."
And it was at this, not at all of the crude insults thrown at her, that Grace sucked in a gasp of shock. Her blue eyes blurred with tears, and she slapped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from exclaiming in shock – a tiny cry leaked out.
Ginny alone could see the pain hidden in Alden's eyes before he turned away. Then Grace turned on her heels, pushed through the crowd of watching and jeering students who had gathered, and fled towards the main doors, her sobs resounding behind her.
"Well done, you arsehole!" Ginny yelled at the male Slytherin who had caused the fight. "Some friend!" Then, not waiting for a reply, she tore after Grace.
"Grace!" she called over a whistling wind that stung Ginny's eyes and snarled her hair into knots. "Grace, where are you?"
A sob answered her from nearby, and Ginny found her friend huddled by the wall, crying into her hands.
"It's okay, Gracie, it's okay," Ginny said softly, taking the taller girl in her arms and holding her close. "Shh, don't cry. He's just being weird today, it's fine. Shall we go for a walk – get you to calm down?"
Grace bobbed her head slightly, and, still clinging to each other, they started down the winding path.
As they walked, Ginny couldn't help but feel awful. She'd received a poem from Tom and probably had the sweetest – admittedly, not the most publicly social and friendly – boyfriend in Hogwarts. Now she felt horrible because Grace's relationship with Alden was doing so badly.
And, of course, just when things couldn't get any worse, Tom appeared on a nearby path, and nodded at the two girls.
Without removing her arms from around Grace, Ginny rapidly made a slashing movement at her throat with one finger, staring at him and willing him to go away. Something told her that Grace wouldn't feel any better if Tom was cooing over Ginny.
He didn't seem to get the damn message.
"Not now!" she hissed furiously at him when he was close enough, and, ignoring the confused and hurt look hiding behind the as-ever masked features, and also ignoring the guilt threatening to choke her, she turned her back on the Head Boy; kept walking.
"Why are you being so horrible to him?" Grace choked out. "He really cares about you and – and – and -"
"Would you prefer for me to go and cuddle him?" Ginny pointed out.
A pause. "No…" Grace snuffled, and burst into tears again.
What has the world come to?
xxx
Tears dried up eventually, and, while Grace chose to hide in her bedroom for the first class because she couldn't face seeing civilisation, Ginny had to continue with her life, and, reluctantly, the redhead headed off to Astronomy.
As she ascended the stairs from the dungeons, she was met with a horde of noisy seventh-years pushing past her, presumably heading for Potions.
Oh, great, she thought as she realised that they were robed in yellow and green. Slytherin and Hufflepuff. That would include:
"Tom!" Ginny called brightly, seeing the tall young man ignore her completely and march briskly down the stone steps.
He stopped, and turned to send a blank, do I look bothered stare at her, his eyes slightly narrowed in all that expressed that he was pissed off at her. "Yes?" he asked, polite enough, though his words had a biting edge to them.
Ginny frowned down at him. "What's your tie in a knot?"
Self-consciously, Tom's long-fingered hand went to his silver and green school-tie, before he dropped it, and scowled at her. "Nothing," he said coldly.
She gave him a withering look.
"Well." He shifted his schoolbag on his shoulder and stared down the steps at where his classroom was, away from her. His next words were an angry mutter. "If you didn't like the poem then that's your own opinion."
Her heart sank. Of course. She'd forgotten that she wasn't going out with a normal person. She'd forgotten that she was dating a sort of socially-inept Head Boy who took everything personally.
"Tom," she said, almost patronizingly, "I wasn't being mean to you because your poem sucked."
He gave her a sharp look, his dark eyes slits.
Reverse, back-track!
"I mean, it didn't suck," she hastily corrected. "That came out wrong. I didn't avoiding you because of the you thought that your poem to you was – oh God, I can't even speak English anymore." She slapped her forehead with her hand. "Rewind." She took a deep breath, and tried again. "I know that you think that I avoided you because I didn't like your poem. But it was because Grace and Alden had a massive fight, and I didn't think that, you know, you talking about giving me Valentine's Day poetry-" (here he went pink, high on his hollowed cheeks) "- would make her feel any better. And you didn't seem to see that every inch of my body language was screaming: go away, not now, I'll talk to you later." She gave a nervous laugh. "Because actually, I thought that your poem was just about thenicestthingsincechocolate." Another nervous laugh. Her face was heating up. She scratched her head. "So… yeah. I'm sorry."
"So you should be," said Tom coolly, but he was pink and he was smiling his evident glee at having his work complimented so highly.
Ginny grinned up at him. "I think," she said, looking at her pocket-watch, "that I've made you very late for Potions, and made myself even later for Astronomy, so I'll see you later-" (she stood on tiptoe to kiss one cheek) "-and will talk to you later-" (she kissed the other cheek) "-goodbye." (She kissed him lightly on the lips.)
Then she scurried away, her heart feeling lighter – but at the same time, chained down by the fact that her best friends at 1950's Hogwarts had made the same boy-girl-friendship mistake. The mistake being to make friends – to go out – and then to break up spectacularly, destroying any possibility of remaining friends.
This world, twisted by the proud.
xxx
"Can you tell Alden to pick up my quill, please?"
"Alden, can you pick up Grace's quill?"
"What, you mean the one that she stupidly hurled across the room?"
"Alden."
"Tell Grace that she can get it herself."
"Grace, get it yourself."
"I can't be bothered."
"Grace, get the goddamn quill."
"Why are you on his side?"
"Alden, get the goddamn quill."
"No!"
"Fine! I'll get the bloody quill!" said Ginny crossly, and, as usual, ended up compromising by doing the task herself. She stood, weaved around the front of her desk, snatched the eagle-feather quill from the stone tiles, and placed it neatly on Grace's desk.
"You could've Summoned it, you know," Alden pointed out.
"So could've you!" Ginny bit back. "Now shut up."
"What's all the commotion?" asked the olive-skinned, Italian Professor Ornella, raising her dark head from her desk.
"Nothing," chorused the three Slytherins sweetly.
"Then get back to work."
This Herbology lesson, they weren't having a practical but were instead answering questions from their textbooks to prepare them for the sort of questions that what be appearing in their up-coming NEWTs. Ginny was thoroughly bored, and even picking up quills was more interesting than writing out a thousand times that Bubotuber pus isn't poisonous to hedgehogs.
"I don't see why we have to do this," complained Grace quietly.
"And that's why you fail," Alden retorted snidely from beside Ginny.
"Funny," said the redhead, looking at them both with a curious expression her freckled face. "I swore that you weren't talking to each other."
The two fighting Slytherins huffed, and returned to their writing.
Ginny sighed. She hated being the owl, delivering messages – but much more that she had to constantly break up violent arguments. She missed her fifties' best friends, and they just weren't themselves since they'd broken up. Grace had stopped acting hyper and mental; Alden had retreated into his hermit-habitation known as the library and buried himself in books. She wanted the people she'd originally made friends with. She wanted them back desperately.
xxx
She was seeing less and less of Tom as his time was now almost completely occupied – NEWTs revision, careers advice (when she heard this, she struggled desperately to blank the part of her brain saying, what advice do you need for Evil Dark Lord?), Head work, patrols, and sometimes even being used to watch over the firsties' and secondies' detentions (he scared them. He scared them a lot).
Snatched kisses in empty corridors. Entwined hands in vacant classrooms. Dancing in secret tunnels to no music. Hugs behind the library bookcases.
Such was what their relationship had steadily declined to, though, gratefully, every few days or so, there would be a free period where Eleanor took over double-patrols for their sake (the redhead felt she'd never be able to thank the blonde enough times), where Dippet was busy, where Tom had no homework and sacrificed his revision time, where he was completely and entirely hers.
Ginny thought wistfully of the 'good old days' as she threaded her way through the library shelves, a heavy book on extra Arithmancy – her worst subject – in her arms. She stopped beside the librarian's desk and waited patiently to check out her book. Madam Crofton wasn't there.
Where is that blasted librarian?
Ginny scanned the book-room rapidly, before turning back to the desk, and her eye was caught upon a sheaf of paper sticking out the edge of a drawer on the other side.
Did she dare?
In an instant, Ginny had leant over the desk, and snatched at the paper. Of course, it being half-shut in a drawer, it ripped in half.
Oh CRAP!
"Alohamora!" she hissed at the drawer. It trundled open, and Ginny grabbed the other half of the paper. "Reparo!" The parchment sealed, whole again. Then she stuffed it in her pocket and fled.
She knew what it was. It was the list of all the books in the library, including those in the Restricted Section. She'd stolen it previously, but her search had been far too narrow. Svengali. Of course it would draw naught. But if the search changed to, say, archaic?
Pressing her back against the library bookcases nearby, Ginny glanced sideways for anyone who might be watching her. Then she cast a careful gaze upon the parchment in her hands.
No… no… The Art Of Archaic… she memorized its whereabouts and its reference number… no… no… Base Archaic And Other Tongues Most Evile… she memorised this, too, and then tucked it into the pages of a nearby book, not caring if someone poor person found the book and was caught with the stolen document.
Her job done, she proudly left the library, smiling broadly. She knew now where the books on Archaic were. Now… to get them.
xxx
A/N: Lalala… I hope you liked it… quite a lot happening… please review… I luff yerwww.
WARNING: THE NEXT CHAPTER! OMG! OMG! OMG! O-M-FREAKIN'-G! AHHHHHHH! It's literally my FAVOURITE chapter in this whole thing! And – and – ARGHHHH! HURRY UP AND REVIEW SO I CAN POST THE NEXT ONE! ARRGHH!
Next Time:
The Head Boy dropped onto the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his arms between them. Then he said, his voice muted and tired, "Come here."
Ginny crossed the room and sat beside him.
"Can you keep a secret?" Tom wasn't looking at her.
XXX