A/N: ZOMG! There's a Henrietta Branford Writing Competition for the UK and I entered and I WON! I WON! It's fan-freakin'-tastic! YAYYYYY! … Aaanyway. SO MANY REVIEWS! I opened my email, and was like "whoa". I had 95 unread messages! And about half of them were revies. I love you all so much!
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Sixty-Three: P is for Pink Rabbits
It was Tom… but it wasn't. The eyes were solid black, with no pupils or irises, and rimmed with red. The face was almost solid white, waxen and blurry, like someone had smeared a crayon drawing. The hair was pitch-black, straight (unlike the real Tom's wavy tresses) and hanging into his face. And the not-Tom smirked, with the expression of a lion watching a deer squirm under its paw.
They linked hands and walked off into the distance.
xxx
If you were to stand in the Entrance Hall at approximately ten in the morning on April the first, 1959, you would most probably have been ambushed by two very large pink rabbits.
A small first-year with blonde hair in pigtails was making her way towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Her eyes were blue and wide. She had a badge on her robes that told anyone who saw it that she was in Gryffindor. She was alone.
"RAWRR!"
Two pink rabbits leapt out from behind a pole; one fell over and landed on its face with a loud, "Ow."
The first-year screamed.
"We will kill you in your sleep. We know where your family lives. We know your secrets. And we know how many teeth you have!" roared the rabbit that was still standing.
The first-year screamed again.
"Geez, you scream loud," said the second bunny.
The first-year screamed.
"Can you stop it?" asked the second rabbit irritably.
The first-year screamed.
"Please – shut up!" said the second rabbit.
The first-year screamed.
"Why, you little-" snapped the second rabbit, reaching for the first-year's throat menacingly with her large pink fluffy paws.
The first-year gave one last scream before fainting.
"Thank you," said the second rabbit, dusting off her paws as though pleased with herself.
"Dude. She might have been rabbitaphobic or something," said the first rabbit.
"Rabbitaphobic," scoffed the second. She paused. "Well. I dunno." She poked the first-year with her foot. "What should we do now?"
"I say we dump her in the Lake."
"Ginny!"
"What? She's a Gryffindor!" the first rabbit protested.
There came a groan from behind them. "Oh God, please tell me you didn't go through with the stupid giant-rabbit April Fools' Day scheme," said Alden, coming into view and slapping his forehead with his palm.
"It was Grace's idea," said one rabbit, pointing at the other.
Alden stared at the first-year Gryffindor on the marble tiling. "… What did you do?"
The second rabbit pulled off its head, revealing Grace Hartwin. "I did nothing."
The first also removed her head. "Liar."
"She wouldn't stop screaming," Grace protested, lifting her hands as though to say, what was I supposed to do?
Alden rolled his brown eyes. "I give up on you two," he muttered.
Ginny turned to Grace. "I actually don't remember what our original plan was."
"I do," said Grace, shocked at Ginny's blasphemy – not knowing the plan? Disgraceful. "On April Fools' Day, we dress up as massive Easter bunnies and shout 'Happy Thanksgiving' to whoever we see."
"Oh yeah…"
Again, Alden slapped his forehead.
"Why didn't you join in?" Ginny asked the short dark-haired boy, interrupting halfway through in order to bellow "OOGLY-BOOGLY AND A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU!" at a group of passing Ravenclaws, who all muttered, "crazy," to each other.
"Oh, I wonder," he replied sarcastically.
"Quick, here comes Eleanor," whispered Ginny, stuffing her head back into the rabbit mask, complete with shiny nose and long pink ears. "Let's get her."
"Indeed," said Grace, following suit.
They hid behind a column (they dragged Alden behind it as well, as a single Slytherin standing around would be suspicious) and waited with bated – and giggly – breath as Eleanor Fionn and her friends trotted down the steps to the Entrance Hall.
"One…" Ginny whispered. "Two… three!"
They jumped out, paws outstretched and waving in a sort of rabbit-jazz-hands.
"HAPPY KWANGIZING!" was what came out of their mouths – a combination of Ginny shouting 'thanksgiving' and Grace yelling 'kwanza'.
"When is kwanza?" asked Ginny.
"Not sure. I think it's in June," replied Grace.
"December," Alden corrected, sticking his head out from behind the marble column.
"Anyway…" said Grace. "RAWR!"
Eleanor and her companions burst out laughing. "Hey Ginny, hey Grace," they chuckled.
"How did you know it was us?" demanded Grace, tugging off her rabbit-head.
The Head Girl raised her eyebrows. "Who else dresses up as the mascot of the wrong holiday and shouts the greeting of another wrong holiday?"
One of her friends piped up, "Actually, Sheila Muggins did that two years ago. Except that she was totally egged by the fifth-year boys, and she cried. And then she never did it again."
Ginny and Grace gave each other wary looks. Egged? They shrugged. Ah well. What was a little raw egg-yolk to ruin their fun?
"Is Tom coming down soon?" asked Ginny gleefully, being struck with a wonderful idea.
"Er, yeah," said Eleanor. "I heard him coming downstairs just before we left."
Ginny cackled maliciously, and leapt behind the column again, fixing her mask onto her head. "Shh," she hissed out at the Head Girl and company, "I'm not here."
"Okay…" giggled Eleanor, and she sashayed away.
Grace joined Ginny, and they reached out to grab Alden, but he was too far – they would have to run out – they heard muted footsteps – they saw long legs and a shabby cloak – damn! – they ran behind the column again.
As they pressed themselves to the marble pole, the two sixth-years had great difficulty stifling their manic giggles.
Any minute now…
Ginny prepared to leap out –
"Philips," said a cool, flat voice. Tom acknowledged the existence of Grace and Alden now, but was far from friendly.
"Hey, Riddle," Alden replied. "How are you? And by the way, Ginny and Grace are behind the column in giant rabbit-suits."
"ALDEN!" the two Slytherin females complained, stepping out, tugging off their rabbit-heads and glaring at him.
"Rawrr?" Ginny tried half-heartedly, clawing at her tall, and bewildered boyfriend. "You spoilt it, Alden!" she turned on her friend. "MEHHH!" she whacked him soundly around the face.
"OUCH!" Alden yelped, jumping backwards. "Jesus, Ginny!"
"Nice," gasped Grace, staring between them.
"Oops." Ginny went red. "Didn't mean to do it that hard."
"That hurt!" Alden exclaimed.
"Don't be a baby," said Ginny crossly, but she put her arms around him and hugged him. "There, there, darling, I'm sorry." She patted his dark-haired head. "You know that I love you, right?" she cooed.
"Get off," Alden grumbled, pushing her away.
Ginny pouted. "Now who's being the mean one?" she complained. "I've professed my love for you and been rejected. Now what?"
There was a shallow breeze behind Ginny, and Grace pointed over her shoulder. "I don't know – maybe try coddling your boyfriend instead?" she said sarcastically.
Ginny turned, and realised that the breeze had been the swirl of Tom's cloak as he left. "Gah," she groaned. "My bad." She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall, you two." Then she hurried away up the stairs.
"Hey!" she called after him down the corridor. "Hey, Tom! Come back!" she waddled after him. She could usually run quite fast, but she was wearing a massive rabbit-suit which was hot, stuffy, and difficult to manoeuvre in.
A group of second-years were staring.
"What're you looking at?" she snapped. "Toooom, WAIT!" she howled.
It was a very funny sight to have seen.
Finally the Head Boy slowed down a bit, but he didn't stop. "'Morning," he said icily, not looking at her, and swerving sideways to disappear through a painting.
"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Ginny, trotting awkwardly after him, having to squeeze her large rabbit-arse through the tunnel diagonally. "Tom, please slow down, I'm in a bloody rabbit-suit!"
"That is not my problem," said Tom coldly, "it's yours."
"What if I get stuck?" she said sadly, struggling as the tunnel became more narrow. "Toooom! Come back! I'm going to get stuck!"
"Get Philips to help you," were the words thrown glacially over his shoulder. "I don't care." And, in a lightning-strike of understanding, she realised what was wrong.
"Oh God, Tom, you're not jealous, are you?" she said exasperatedly, stopping from trying to follow the young Heir of Slytherin.
He stopped. "No," he said stiffly, and started walking again. She was right though, she knew it.
"To-om, he's my best friend," she told him wearily. "I'd never go out with him-"
"May I remind you that you did?"
"Okay, firstly, that was to make Grace jealous so that Alden and her would get together, secondly, that was only for a month anyway, and thirdly, HAH! You just proved that you're jealous," Ginny gloated.
Tom folded his arms and turned around to frown at her. "No, I didn't," he said. "And I'm not."
"You don't have to be," said Ginny. "I'm going out with you, aren't I? What more proof do you need that I fancy you and only you?" She swore that she saw him flinch when she said that final sentence, but she must have been imagining it.
He shifted awkwardly on his feet and muttered something incoherent.
"What?" she frowned.
He coloured faintly. "…I said… why?" he mumbled.
"Why?" said Ginny incredulously. "What do you mean, why?"
"It's fairly simple!" Tom suddenly burst out – not shouting, as he hardly ever did. But his voice was raised and strained, as it often was when he was upset and trying to stay calm. "Just answer the bloody question! Why? Why? Why me? Look at you, for God's sake! You're smart and you play Quidditch and you're popular and you're brave and you're loyal and you don't care about other people's outside-shells because you can practically read their minds anyway and you're bloody beautiful, okay? You could have had anyone in this school. You could have even had a teacher, so help me God, if you'd decided that was who you'd set your sights on, but – but – you didn't. You – chose – me."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Would you rather I went out with Professor Devin?" she asked.
"Stop it," Tom snapped. "Stop trying to make everything funny, I'm being serious!"
The redhead fell silent.
The only noise was the heavy breathing of the still-upset Head Boy, a few metres away in the gloom of the narrow tunnel.
She was at a loss of what to say. She was so used to being funny and stupid – she was in a rabbit costume – that she didn't really know what to do. In truth, what she was terrified of was being honest.
She took a deep breath. "You're tall," she said quietly.
Tom looked at her sharply, his hands in tight fists and his dark eyes flashing.
"You're… you're sort of comfortable to hug. You're mysterious. You're nice when you're not being evil. You're a challenge. You're not afraid to argue with me. You can be an arsehole. You can be the sweetest person on the planet. You write poetry just for me. You have funny hair that isn't quite curly and isn't quite straight. You have really dark eyes. You go pink when your embarrassed, but pretend that you're fine. You're a bit insecure. You have a fluffy jumper perfect for snuggling into. You have lots of cool books. You speak Parseltongue. You're the Heir of Slytherin. You have an evil side. You always smell sort of like ink. You have abnormally long fingers. You're pretty when you smile. You hardly ever smile. You're like a game – try and make Tom smile! And the prize? I get to see your smile. You're funny when you want to be. You ramble when you're nervous. You talk really formally when you're nervous, too. You hate using the word 'er' but it sometimes slips out. You like pears. You don't like chocolate much. You love Butterbeer, but you pretend that you don't. You're good at comforting me. You always listen, even when you're not interested. And then suddenly you are interested, and you don't butt in with stupid comments. You give me yellow flowers. You hold my hand when you think no-one's looking, but the world is watching and you don't even notice. You look like a ten-year-old when you're confused. You don't realise, but you have the damn cutest puppy-dog face that you don't know you have. After that eventful Prefect meeting, you went and rescued the beaver – I know because I saw it in your room in a position of importance on your bedside table. You're smart. You can keep secrets. You trust me. You like me. You're the Head Boy. You're you. You're Tom Riddle."
There was a silence.
Ginny's heart was pounding. There. The truth. No jokes, no silly quips. No teasing. No interruptions. Just what she felt.
Tom was looking at the ground, a slightly stunned expression on his face. Then, after a few moments, all that he said nervously was: "The world was watching?"
"Mm-hm," said Ginny. "Just like they are now. Watching a confused Head Boy and an over-sized pink rabbit who's stuck in a secret tunnel."
His lips twisted into the faintest smile. "A rabbit and a beaver," he said coolly, stepping closer. "I think it goes nicely."
"Yeah…" Ginny shifted. "Don't you think it would go even better if I could move?" she nodded towards her rabbit-figure, tightly jammed between the two walls.
The dark-haired young man in front of her smirked. "Oh?" he said softly, stepping closer still, angling his head so that his face was inches from hers. "I think we're fine here."
Ginny grinned.
xxx
A/N: Aww, how sweet. I loved writing that "reasons why I like you" bit. Did anyone else pick up on why he got jealous? Yes, he's a bit of a dipstick who gets jealous easily, but he had a special reason this time… -gasp- Because she said "I love you" to Alden, even though it was just a joke, and Tom loves her, and she never said that to him. Aw. Sad. Anyway… yeah, the rabbit thing was really random. But so funny to write. I was sort of on a sugar-high when I wrote it… and I was inspired by this advert with a massive dancing rabbit on TV. Hmm… only FOUR PEOPLE got a cyber cookie. Shameful, shameful. And I thought you loved me. Sniffle. Anyyyywaaay. Please review!
Next Time:
"Come with me," Ginny blurted out, before she even ran the words through her brain and thought about what they meant.
He stopped. And then he continued to walk again. And then he stopped again. And then he turned.
Or are you just scared that you're falling in too deep?
She blinked. Where had that thought come from? And, more importantly… who was it addressed to?
XXX
JUST FINISHED ECLIPSE. Whoa, I can't wait until Breaking Dawn comes out! It's so…. ARGH! Eddie and Bellie are getting MARRIED! WHOA!