Disclaimer: Same stuff as usual. QuickEdit makes for bad spacing in some parts of the fic. I apologize for that, but QuickEdit and I have a mutual hate thing going on, and the enigma that is the workings of QuickEdit is yet to be understood by me. So, yeah. And again (for the sake of Broadwaypoetess) this is another FLASHBACK chapter. Not a really "messed up AU." And now, a literary cameo from Broadwaypoetess herself!
Broadwaypoetess: Shut it. And review my Blaise fics biz-natch.
And now, the fic! Just a reminder, when it comes to diary entries, Tom's writing is underlined, Ginny's is italicized.
Chapter 3: Knowledge
Controlling her paces only to make sure that she didn't skip right into the room, Ginny made her way over to one of the tables in the nearly empty library-- with the exception of Madam Pince and herself. She carelessly deposited her schoolbooks one on of the chairs, reached into her pocket, pulled out a familiar diary, and dropped down into another chair. Ginny extended an arm back over toward her belongings, rummaging through them and eventually pulling out her quill and inkbottle. Eagerly, she brought the quill to a random page of the diary. Dear Tom, Happy Halloween!
Oh, Halloween, is it?
Yes! It's so exciting around Hogwarts this time of year.
Then shouldn't you be off celebrating with your friends? There's usually a-- ah, wait. Skipping dinner again, are you?
Yes, I am. You know me so well, Tom.
I'll take that as a compliment.
It is.
Good, then.
You always seem to be putting the pieces of everything together, Tom. You're so clever about things like this! Are you sure you're not supposed to be in Ravenclaw?
I'm sure, Ginevra. Positive.
But did you ever have any doubts about it-- like I did?
About being in Slytherin? Well, perhaps. For a while, but I eventually discovered something that confirmed everything for me.
What was that?
Oh, nothing really. I wouldn't want to bother you with knowing.
I'm curious, Tom!
I'm sure you are.
Please? For me?
Ginny stared at the diary in anticipation for a while. He took longer than usual to respond this time around.
All right.
Oh, really?
Yes, but I-- well, it's better explained face-to-face. Where are you now?
In the library.
Oh, that won't do. Can you go anywhere where we won't be seen?
Not... really. But I doubt anyone will be in the common room while the feast is going on.
Good enough. Take me there.
Okay, Tom.
Heaving a quiet, controlled sigh, Ginny shut the diary in front of her and pocketed it quickly. She snatched up all the rest of her belongings and headed out of the library and down the stone corridors, taking her time as she strolled about-- much to her own surprise. She headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady as she hurried her way up the moving staircases-- nearly losing her balance at one point. It was rather strange, seeing the halls so empty while the rest of the school was functioning as usual. The sound of her footsteps and the creaking of the moving staircases were the only noises she heard throughout her small venture to the common room.
Leaping off of the last staircase, she ambled up to the portrait and firmly declared, "Squib," to the Fat Lady.
"Not at the feast, dear?"
Ginny shook her head in silence, staring at the Fat Lady with pitiful, pleading eyes.
"Oh, dear, why not? It's all so fun. Every first year should be there to enjoy it! They're always so memorable for the first years, you know. Last year, there was a troll-- scared the lot around the school, but oh, how that feast was memorable! Dear, you really should--"
"Squib," Ginny repeated with more of a forceful tone.
"Oh, fine," the Fat Lady scowled, throwing up her hands in surrender, as the portrait pulled back.
Ginny entered the common room swiftly, fearing that the Fat Lady might've changed her mind if she'd stayed outside there for a split second longer. As she expected, the common room was completely deserted; the fireplace crackling away and giving off a bright light in the room was the only thing that made noise there.
Snuggling into one of the grand sofas by the fireplace, Ginny dropped her belongings on the floor, pulled out the diary from her robes once again and settled it upon her lap. She grabbed her quill and inkbottle once again, and returned back to the diary.
I'm here. And I was right. Not a soul in here.
Good. I was sure you'd be right. Your instincts are amazing.
Really?
I have confidence in you, Ginevra.
Ginny felt a blush burning at her cheeks.
Thanks, Tom.
Now, same procedure as usual? You remember it, correct?
Yes, Tom.
All right, then. Go ahead.
Ginny nodded and placed the book down on the sofa beside her. She closed her eyes and did the same thing as usual-- envisioned a blank, empty space. Abruptly, she felt a surge in her head and she winced a bit from the quick, draining feeling.
"We meet again, Ginevra."
Tom's charming smile made Ginny blush as red as the roots of her Weasley hair. He stepped closer to her, leaning down to Ginny's eye level. She swallowed down a growing fear as best she could-- literally-- taking a great gulp and letting a shy grin cross her face.
"So," she began with a spark of confidence, "what where you going to tell me?"
Tom nodded quickly, "Ah, right."
He offered out his palm in front of Ginny, causing her to stare at him strangely, though she kept a smile on her face amidst a confused expression.
"Ginevra, do you trust me?"
"Of course, Tom!"
"Link your fingers in between mine, and trust me."
Ginny nodded slowly and brought her hand up toward Tom's, carefully linking her fingers in the spaces between his.
"Look at me, Ginevra," Tom's softly commanding voice sounded as his fingers fell atop Ginny's.
Ginny stared up into Tom's eyes, caught up in a trance by his intense, mesmerizing gaze,
"Perfect, Ginevra."
Ginny felt herself grow increasingly weak, her body leaning forward involuntarily, losing her coordination. Her mind grew cloudy and soon, she felt a darkness overcome her consciousness, and Ginny collapsed forward-- falling right against Tom.
Without warning, Tom's arms quickly extended forward to catch Ginny as she fell toward him. Her unconscious body leaned dead weight against Tom, and he shifted his grip so that he was almost cradling the girl.
"Sweet Ginny," he said softly, peering down stoically at the redhead's pale face. "Too trusting for her own good."
Tom sighed gently and placed Ginny down on the floor with care, pausing to gaze at her once more-- though an enlightened expression crossed his face in the instant.
"Yet," he began in the same soft tone, teaching for her limp hand and examining it as he brought it close to his eye level, "so willing to be controlled."
A small smirk formed across his lips as he lowered Ginny's hand back down to the floor.
"Good girl, Ginevra."
With a soft moan, Ginny opened her eyes slowly, feeling the pressure of some terrible headache weighing her down as she woke up. She sat up and gazed around wearily. Quickly enough, she realized that she was back in her bed in her dorm room and her gaze traveled toward the window, where there was a view of dim sunlight protruding through the dark, night clouds. Ginny gaze back down at herself.
"What am I doing with my school robes still on?" she whispered in quiet wonder to herself.
Ginny maneuvered out of her bed, and then out of the room, following the hallway down to the bathroom. As she stepped in, Ginny shut the door behind her and gazed into the mirror handing on the wall before her. A horrified gasp escaped her lips, and she ran a finger down the front of her robes, where a thick coating of red had been splattered.
"Paint?"
Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front.
You're sure you remember nothing, Ginevra?
Yes, Tom.
No idea why you've got paint on your clothes, either?
Not at all. Oh, Tom, this is turning out like before-- you remember, right? Those roosters... when I found feathers all on me. Oh, Tom, what if I did this? I'm so afraid.
It's all right, Ginevra.
Ginny gasped in a quick, painful breath as tears began rolling down her cheeks. Ginny dropped her quill and cradled her face as more tears began cascading off of her face-- some hitting the pages of the diary below.
It's all right.