There were loud thumpings, then the voice called out again.
"Ginny!"
It was Hermione. Hermione was calling out to her from beyond the locked dormitory door. Why was she--oh. Ginny had fallen asleep on her bed. She still felt tired, which was definitely odd considering she hadn't been at all sleepy when she had been writing to Tom--and she'd left their diary out! Damn, damn, da...the door was locked. She didn't remember exactly what point she'd locked it at, but so long as everyone else was outside...
"Just a minute!" she called quickly, hiding her inkbottle and quill under her pillow with little thought for the bedclothes they might stain. Ginny tucked the diary into her shirt as she scrambled up and ran quickly to the door before Hermione took it into her head to break it down, pulled it open and assumed a tired look. She gazed out at Hermione slowly, blinking and stifling a yawn. "S'amatter?"
"Oh...you were asleep?"
"No, Hermione, I was practising tantric sex with Professor Snape." She yawned again, this time unfeigned, and managed a smile at Hermione's expression of disgust. "Kidding. Yes, I was asleep, what's wrong?"
Hermione frowned, glancing around Ginny to see the empty and clean room. "Ron was worried about you. Then you weren't in the common room, so I came up to check..."
"I was fine. Am. Am fine. I got a letter from Selene at Beauxbatons and came up to answer it immediately, but I fell asleep." Brushing her hair back with a flick of her hand, Ginny leaned against the doorframe, tucking a foot back so as not to trip one of her dorm-mates who hurried through into the bathroom.
"You have a friend at Beauxbatons?" Hermione looked surprised, stepping aside to let another girl rush past after the first.
"We've been writing to each other for over a year." The lie came easy to Ginny's lips, a story sprung of a half-second's grasp for excuse to cover the delivery of the diary by Narcissa Malfoy's owl (a much less showy bird than that of Draco's father, but beautiful in an understated way). She supposed herself lucky in that her brother and Hermione finally cared little enough about goings-on with the Malfoys that they didn't recognise the bird that appeared every fortnight with sweets, money or whatever else Narcissa decided her son should need. Hermione's expression had moved to acceptance, and the older girl nodded.
"So...if that's all...can I go now?"
"Why don't you come down to the common room? You look pale, some--"
"Some warm, dry air that's been in and out of other people's lungs for the last few hours would do me good?" Ginny interrupted flippantly, forcing another smile although going downstairs to be surrounded by noisy, chattering children was the last thing she desired at that time.
"Er...exactly. And lunch is in an hour, you can't miss that."
"Yes, Mum." Crossing the room to where her bag lay, Ginny grabbed at the first blank parchment she could find, her spare quill and the bottle of blue ink that had wedged itself into her Transfiguration book. She had said she'd fallen asleep: if starting a letter to 'Selene' was necessary to keep the deception flawless, she would start one. It wouldn't matter if she got as far as 'Dear Selene' and then stared blankly at the parchment as if lost for words, when really she thought of what to tell Tom next.
Inevitably she would have to tell him about their...past, she couldn't keep it from him forever, but that could wait for some time. Supplies in hand and the warm weight of her diary against her skin, hidden by layers of shirt and Weasley sweater in a shade of blue that her mother claimed 'brought her eyes out', she was still thinking on that as she entered the common room and claimed an unused armchair near her brother. What was the point of bringing out one's eyes? They would look something approaching grotesque hanging out of the eye-sockets, bouncing about when one walked...
What was she to do with Tom now, though? She'd steered clear of saying anything to do with his older self, or of her first year at Hogwarts, but she had mentioned being appointed a prefect, and he had seemed proud of her. She took that one with some scepticism, but maybe she was being too suspicious. When he had asked how she came by the diary, she had said she got it from a Slytherin. He had told her that he had been a Slytherin, and they discussed the anti-Slytherin sentiment that had been as prevalent in Tom's time as it was in her own. That was...the last thing she remembered. She must have drifted off at that point, leaving Tom hanging. Hopefully he wouldn't be too annoyed...
"Just one game, Hermione?" Her brother's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see him pleading with Hermione, chess set under his arm.
"Ron, much as I'd dearly love to kick your arse, I have two chapters of Arithmancy to do by next week, and I would like to get started..." Hermione reached up to pat him consolingly on the shoulder. "After I get a chapter done, I promise I'll play one game with you. Chess...or whatever else you decide on."
Ron brightened considerably at her words, but whined nonetheless. "But what do I do now?"
"I'll play." Ginny spoke up then. "Chess, not anything else." It would be a sure thing to reassure her brother that all was right with her world, make him believe that she was fine and not to worry about her. He was more overprotective of her now than he had been after she and Harry had gone down their separate paths. Of course, the onus was on him now to be Big Brother, Fred and George having come down hard on Harry last year for his preference of Cho over her.
It had been a rough few months for poor, poor Harry, with some sort of embarrassing prank or another unleashed on him every few days. The twins had even given up tormenting Professor Snape for a month to focus their undivided attention on making Harry realise how stupid he had been, their sacrifice showing how much they truly cared. The burden of the little sister rested solely on Ron's shoulders this year, and he was trying.
Great gods, oh how he was trying.
"You will?" Ron wasted no time being surprised, kicking a chair around to face hers and dragging a small table over. "You can play white."
"I'd rather play black." She demurred, taking a handful of the dark red pieces and setting them out on the board despite their shrill protests. The white players were cheering for their part, finally looking forward to a win.
She had a surprise coming for them. She hoped. She did feel clever--she had worked advanced magic that day, she had gotten what she wanted from a Malfoy even though she would have to pay later, and she had someone who would listen to her. Someone who had very little choice about it, if she was feeling malicious.
Ron advanced a pawn two squares, and she mirrored his action one pawn over, moving it forward two squares as she spoke. "You'n Hermione seem happy enough. Picture of domestic bliss and all that rubbish. Where's the boy wonder?"
Ron snorted, moving his king diagonally into the space left by his pawn. The white king cheered, waving his crown and squeaking death-threats at the red king. "Probably off shagging Ch..." He froze, biting his lip as Ginny moved another pawn forward, freeing her knight.
"Worry not, dear brother." She grinned, genuine laughter at things Ron didn't know spilling free for a second. "I'm not after Harry anymore. It was a childish crush and last year only proved it."
That she had found enjoyment in George and Fred's toying with Harry's dignity at first was telling, she thought, and she really hadn't cared enough to protest their treatment of him even after a month and a half, when Ron had told them to cut it out already because it was upsetting Hermione. "I couldn't give a stuff who's ink he dips his quill into."
"Ginny! Maybe we should set you up with a nice boy, then. Someone with a less dirty mind than your own. What about Justin from Hufflepuff? He's not seeing a girl right now..."
"He's gay, Ron. I'd be bloody surprised if he was to take up with a girl. Ever." Ginny moved her queen out diagonally, her move barely noticed by her brother in light of her words.
"Oh. Huh. That Ravenclaw git, Terry?"
"Attatched at the tongue to Blaise Zabini. I think they're engaged." She moved her rook a space after Ron manoeuvred his own rook free on the other side of the board. "I'm happier as I am for now, touching as the concern is."
"You sure?" He moved another pawn forward one, falling back in shock as she moved her queen.
Adroitly capturing his king in one fell swoop of the red wood queen who shrieked a war-cry as it brained the white king with its crown, Ginny sat back in satisfaction. "Yes. I win."
"That's...how did you...? You always--"
"Sucked at chess? I've watched you and 'Mione enough to know exactly what you do--and exactly what not to do myself."
"I heard that, Ginny!" Hermione called from the table at which she had her books and work spread out.
"You were meant to!" she answered, finding her quill and ink from where they had slipped down into the crack of the armchair and putting them into her back pocket. "And I'm starving, so I'm going to mope about in the hall until the elves magic up our lunch. Seeya there."
Sauntering out, leaving her brother watching after her in either awe or pique, Ginny hurried once the portrait closed behind her. If she made good time she'd be able to hide in a wall-alcove for five minutes or so before the lunch gathering began, enough time to apologise to Tom and promise to write more as soon as lunch was over and she'd found somewhere private enough.
She hadn't been lying about her hunger, even though her explanation of just how she'd managed to beat Ron had been pure bullshit. Usually she lost focus after the third or fourth move in a game, but she'd set Ron off on the wrong foot by making him start on the offensive, and it had just...fallen into place.
Glancing around furtively and finding the second-floor corridor she was in to be empty, she walked toward the nearest window, this a wide-ledged one with curtains draping over to keep out the cold in winter months. It being almost December, the thick velvet curtains were pulled shut, leaving her to pull them aside and haul herself up carefully so as not to scrape her knees or bash an elbow. Once she was tucked onto the windowsill she let the curtains fall again, pulled out her quill and dipped it into the blue ink.
'Tom? Tom, are you still there? It's Ginny.'
Ginny! Are you all right? You went silent and never came back...
'I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I guess I must've been tired without knowing it.'
It's fine. I was worried about you. Don't feel bad about it; I've been here for over fifty years without anyone to talk to, I can wait an hour for you to sleep.
'I'll try to let you know next time I have the urgent need to pass out, Tom. And I have to go now, it's lunch time in a few minutes. I'll write more as soon as I can find somewhere private, I promise.'
Appreciated. I'll see you soon.
She closed the diary quickly, returning it to her shirt and shoving her quill and ink into her pocket before she jumped down again and walked swiftly down to the hall. The lethargy and hunger had to be a side-effect of doing powerful magic. She had nothing to worry about, Tom had said himself that he'd been there fifty years without someone to talk to. If he did remember her first year, he would have mentioned it, he would have slipped up and she would know.
She would know.