Ginny sat on the bed pondering her circumstances. She'd awoken awhile ago, but it was still very early, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. Tom was already up too, but he was keeping to himself this morning. So far he hadn't attempted to stab her and she was taking that as a win.
She had no idea how old Tom Riddle had been when he put a piece of himself in that diary, and she had no idea how old the diary actually was. She didn't really know much about architecture or clothing styles, and she'd yet to see a newspaper. Basically speaking, she had no idea when she was, but she did know that she was in the past. She also had no idea where she was. Probably still somewhere in London, just because you expect orphanages in cities and she'd been in London when she… died? Travelled? Whatever she did.
She was still unsure what, or who's, body she was inhabiting. Whoever Virginia was before Ginny got to her, she'd had a mother, a mother who just chose to give her up. She couldn't imagine her own mother doing that under any circumstances, and there had been many times that her family was too poor to put proper food on the table, but they'd always had each other.
Merlin, she hoped Ron was alright. Mum would have conniptions if both of her youngest were gone in one day, especially since they shouldn't have been in the Ministry at all. She wished there was a way to let her know she was alright.
Maybe if the Veil got her here it could get her back. There was only one way to find out, really. She'd have to go back to it and try again. Actually, that was probably a bit rash since she didn't actually know what the damn thing did. She should look up about the Veil, and then try and go back through it.
She nodded to herself, feeling more secure now that she had a plan. First thing's first, actually get a look at herself. She needed a mirror.
She looked over at Tom, who was on the floor drawing snakes and scribble monsters in the two colours of crayon he owned.
"Tom, where's the bathroom?"
He looked up at her impassively. "It's down the hall. I'll show you."
Considering that the bathroom was communal, it was pretty small. Four stalls lined the left and right walls, and two sinks were crammed against the back, cups filled with toothbrushes sitting on top of what remained of the counter. More importantly, there were mirrors.
Ginny gasped in shock as she looked in the mirror. She had a small round face, pale and peppered with freckles, her eyes were big and brown, and her hair was long and fire-red. She looked exactly like herself. She wasn't inhabiting anyone, this was her own body, just eight years younger. What the hell?
Tom stood next to her, staring as he brushed his teeth. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, toothbrush still in his mouth.
She glared at him. "Nothing! I've just, never seen myself in a mirror before."
He raised his eyebrows dubiously, but didn't respond. She wasn't surprised. She wouldn't believe her either, even if it was technically true.
After an hour Ginny had migrated to the floor, not next to per say, but near Tom to draw as well. She was bored. She was never very good at drawing, so she expected her 'art' wasn't really that much better than it would have been at her actual six anyway.
She was trying to draw her house. Every five minutes or so Tom demanded whichever crayon Ginny was currently using and they'd switch. It was very annoying, but also weirdly funny.
"Ginny," Tom said, apropos of nothing, "Have you ever run away from home before?"
She looked up from her drawing, frowning, "No, I haven't. Why?"
"Not even with a mother that gave you up like that? She must have been terrible to live with."
Ginny put down her crayon. Telling the truth was out of the question. Wasn't it? Did it actually hurt anything if she was thought of as a crazy person? It wasn't like Tom would believe her, at the moment he was just a kid who didn't know magic even existed. Hopefully she'd be going home soon anyway and it wouldn't matter.
But she knew him. She knew that he'd been considered crazy himself while he was here. She also knew that he'd take anything she said and use it against her. Eugh, why was everything so complicated?
She threw herself backwards onto the floor dramatically. "I dunno. I don't know what to think anymore. Why do you want to know anyway?"
"I don't like it here, but I don't have anywhere to go," Tom said, still drawing, "If you'd run away before, you'd know how to do it again, and we could leave."
Ginny grinned, "Is that why you asked to be friends?"
He glanced at her, something approaching amusement in his eyes, and didn't answer.
She snorted. "You never change," she said, fear and fondness getting all mixed up.
The thing was, before he was draining the life from her in the Chamber, before he even mind-controlled her into attacking people with a Basilisk, he was just a friend. A strange friend inside a diary, admittedly, but a friend nonetheless. That was why it hurt quite so much.
Tom frowned at her, "What?"
"What, what?"
"You said, 'You never change', what does that mean? You met me yesterday."
"I said 'you'll', the way you said it makes no sense." she said, sitting up.
"That way makes no sense either."
"I'm six, I'm allowed to make no sense."
"That's not how that works."
"Oh yeah?" she stuck her tongue out at him.
Tom frowned at her, working his way into another unreasonable huff.
The door slammed open, and Tom turned his burgeoning glare to the intruder. It was a young woman with a long brown plait and a terribly nervous disposition. Poor thing looked like she was going to have a heart attack just from Tom's evil-eye.
"What?" he demanded of the newcomer.
"I-I've been sent to wake everyone. Breakfast's soon," she said.
Tom said nothing, continuing to stare with those icy eyes of his.
"Thank you, ma'am," Ginny piped in, "We'll be there soon."
The girl nodded and hurried away.
She turned back to Tom. "You don't need to be rude, you know. Being nice is actually pretty helpful."
"I don't care. They don't like me and I don't like them, why should I be 'nice'?" he said, actually making finger quotes in the air.
Ginny shrugged and stood up. Telling the burgeoning sociopath to turn up the charm so he could get his own way wasn't the brightest idea. At least if he stayed creepy everyone could see what he was.
"If you're nice to other people they'll probably be nice to you back."
"They started it!" he sneered.
"I'm not saying you should take it when people are nasty, I'm saying glaring at people cause they walked in the door isn't a good way to make friends."
Tom grumbled at that, but he didn't argue the point.
Ginny wanted to get to Florish and Blotts to see what books they had that mentioned the Veil of Death, but there was a significant problem with that. She was six. Actually there were three problems; she was six years old, stuck in an orphanage, in Merlin knew what time period but it was certainly several decades in the past.
Worse yet, she'd been here all of a week and she knew down to the bottom of her soul that this place sucked. It was cold, drafty, dusty, damp, and the Matron was mean.
Everything was scheduled, meals, chores, free-time, bed-time, wake-time, and sure, she was used to organisation in a household (that was really the only way to wrangle seven rowdy children) but this was unbearable.
Even the other kids were annoying. Although that one might have been the fact that the other kids ranged from five to twelve and she was, up until three days ago that is, a nice teenaged fourteen and thus too old to want to play pretend with a bunch of small children.
Thankfully, Tom felt the same way. That was a strange feeling too, being grateful for Tom's company.
He was rude, blunt, moody, and entitled, but despite all that it was so easy for her to forgive him, to forget. Because without any of the charm and lies and manipulation he slathered on when he was older, it was just him.
It was his honesty that made it so easy for her to trust him.
She wasn't sure how to feel about that.
