Almost three weeks past uneventfully after the Malfoy incident. He had, of course, attempted to complain about it and label Ginny as an insane pyromaniac.
Only the Slytherins believed him, and with absolutely no marks on his hands to prove anything, the incident died down quickly and the gossipers moved onto their next topic.
Ginny had asked Tom about it, but he remained elusive.
Am I not allowed to be chivalrous?
If I had a body I'd teach you...
Spending forever inside of a diary leaves you very bored. You teach yourself some tricks eventually.
His responses never gave away any detail, but left her smiling anyway.
It was a cold afternoon, the sky grey and filled with clouds that threatened to drop all the rain they were holding.
Despite this, Ginny wanted to be outside. The fresh air was alluring, not to mention the increased privacy and higher chances that she could write to Tom without being interrupted.
Much to his dismay, Ginny had been neglecting her homework. She had a dharma essay due in two days and had barely started.
It could wait for another day, she decided as she found a spot to sit, away from the elements and the prying eyes of other students.
She had grown accustomed to the smell of ink and parchment. So used to it in fact that sometimes at night when she couldn't sleep she wondered why no one had bothered to try and capture the scent and turn it into a perfume.
The smell reminded her of the potions class she just had. As insufferable as Snape was, Ginny had to admit that potions was an interesting class. Something about tossing various disturbing ingredients into a boiling cauldron fascinated her.
Can I ask you a question?
She couldn't remember when, but he had mentioned that he had been good at potions. Or maybe he hadn't and Ginny just assumed that he had. Tom was annoyingly good at everything. A typical Slytherin.
You just did. Why aren't you doing your charms homework?
She expected the response before he even wrote it.
Very funny Tom.
She didn't bother waiting for him to reply.
When you were at school did you brew Amortentia?
Do I want to know why you're asking this?
We were talking about it today in potions. What did it smell like to you?
Though Snape hadn't brought a sample it she imagined she'd smell freshly written pages and broomsticks.
I can't remember what it smelt like in all honesty. Wood fires and new books. Something like that I assume.
The sky opened, sending hundreds of tiny droplets down to the ground. The smell of rain surrounded Ginny, and the chill started travelling up her arms.
Back in her dorm room, Ginny pulled off her rain soaked jacket, tossing it into the washing basket. She shook her hair in a feeble attempt to dry it before pulling it into a ponytail.
"Ginny?"
She turned to the voice. It was Cynthia, one of her dorm mates. She was a short girl, shorter than even Ginny, and had straight hair the colour of straw.
"Yeah?" She pulled off her shoes, leaving them near the door before moving over to her bed.
"We're gonna sneak out tonight. Wanna have some fun?"
Cynthia usually did things like this and Ginny was only invited sometimes, but the other girl's smile was warm.
"Yeah, sure. Let me know when we're leaving."
Getting out would be good for her. She couldn't have people start suspecting things again, unless someone found the diary and started asking questions. It was bad enough that Malfoy had seen it.
Plus it would be good to have fun with a friend she could actually see and interact with. Tom was intelligent and even funny at times, but she couldn't speak to him face to face. They couldn't go to Hogsmeade together and get butterbears or throw snowballs at each other.
She enjoyed his company, but it just wasn't the same as actually being with someone. If she searched through her imagination, she was sure she could find a version of herself that could manage to lift the curse and they could be proper friends.
Her rational brain however, knew that dark magic shouldn't be messed with, and she already doing too much just by writing in it.
Later that night, Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair into a respectable style. She clipped the front parts away from her face leaving the rest to fall down her back. She dressed simply, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a light green sweater.
Cynthia had apparently decided to dress up, wearing a bold red lipstick, a long sleeved white shirt with sheer sleeves, and tight black jeans. Ginny didn't even bother feeling underdressed. She was going out, and that was effort enough.
A small group had gathered in a classroom, ten people at most. Most of them were Ravenclaws that Ginny recognised but didn't know the name of, a Hufflepuff, and to her surprise, a lone Slytherin.
"Ah, she has noticed the snake in the room," he said, looking at Ginny with what she could only describe as an icy confidence.
"Don't worry about Ginny, she's cool," Cynthia replied, shooting the other Gryffindor that clearly meant behave yourself.
The two girls took their seats in top of one of the desks.
"Just don't tell Ron, he might just have a heart attack."
Cynthia introduced the group, pointing to each of the people with a sweeping hand.
The conversations moved quickly, jumping from mundane topics like teachers and petty gossip, to straight out teasing and mocking.
"There's no way Hufflepuff is winning against Slytherin," Emma, one of the Ravenclaws announced. "When was the last time Hufflepuff won a match anyway?"
"It's because none of your chasers know what they're doing," Ginny replied, adjusting herself on the desk. They'd been in the classroom for a while, an hour at least. She half expected for a Prefect to come storming in, taking housepoints and sending them all off to bed.
"Now you've got her going." Cynthia rolled her eyes, knowing full well that once Ginny started going on about Quidditch there was no stopping her.
After several minutes of arguing about Quidditch (and Cynthia complaining that Quidditch was more boring than Binn's lectures) attention turned to Ginny.
"Is it true you set Malfoy on fire?" The questiin came from Cato, one of his perfectly angled eyebrows raised in curiosity.
Ginny picked at her cuticles. Of course if she told them what had actually happened they'd all laugh at her, or worse, storm straight to Dumbledore to declare her insane.
"Why would I set Malfoy on fire?" Dodging the question was better than coming up with a response.
"Because he's a stuck up prat?"
"Oh yes and I'd risk expulsion just to piss off Malfoy."
Then why was he going around telling everyone you've learnt how to use Dark Magic and used him as a test dummy?"
Ginny's mouth fell open just the slightest bit. That wasn't a rumour she had heard. Yes, she knew that Malfoy had been strolling around claiming she'd attempted to set him on fire, but she didn't know anything about Dark Magic. The last thing she wanted was everyone thinking she was involved in the Dark Arts.
"Sorry, I didn't know it would offend you."
His apology sounded sincere, but his words meant nothing to Ginny. Her blood was already boiling inside her veins, blurring her vision, and making her heart pump so loudly she could hear the noise ringing in her ears.
"Oh sure, accusing me of being involved in the Dark Arts isn't offensive at all!" She wanted to say more, but her words just came out as unintelligible noises, and instead of embarrassing herself with her attempts at English, Ginny stormed out of the classroom and headed straight to her dorm, her fingers shaking with anger and anxiety.
The following morning was awkward to say the least. Ginny tried to get ready quickly, throwing her hair into a bun and pulling her uniform on while Cynthia was still in the shower.
She was not successful however.
Cynthia cornered her in the dorm, her hair wet and dripping and her shirt still untucked.
"I'm sorry about last night Ginny."
She didn't want to think about last night, she just wanted to get to her first class and pretend like the past 12 hours hadn't happened.
"It's fine, it's not your fault." Her voice was curt, and the other girl seemed to take the hint. A frown appeared on her face for half a second and by the time Ginny had blinked it was gone.
"I'll see you at breakfast then?" She didn't sound hopeful.
Ginny walked down the stairs quickly. This was the earliest she'd left her dorm in a very long while. It was only 8:00, she had a whole hour before classes started. She would eat breakfast in fifteen. Ginny glanced outside through a nearby window, the sky was still grey, but it only looked a little miserable. She could run outside for a while, speak to Tom, and get to breakfast without worrying anyone. An added bonus was that she wouldn't have to deal with Cynthia apologising or trying to figure just why she had been so offended. The diary was already tucked away in her bag, she didn't even need to run back to her dorm.
The cold air on her face was a welcome feeling. As was the quiet. Owls could be heard if she strained her ears, but apart from that the world was silent. Ginny took her seat in an alcove and got to writing. Tom beat her to an introduction.
I didn't hear from you last night.
I went out. She watched the scribbles appear in the corner of the page as Tom thought of a response.
Perfect record Ginevra sneaking out past curfew, how very interesting.
Oh how things had changed since she was eleven. She contemplated telling him of her shenanigans. To be fair, she had only gotten detention a couple of times, but that was only because she was a master at avoiding getting caught. Even at home she broke rules, stealing her brother's brooms to teach herself how to fly in the middle of the night.
My record isn't that pristine, Tom.
What were sneaking out for anyway?
She recounted her night to him, how it had started pleasant, and how she even thought she was making new friends. But of course everything had to turn sour.
I don't want people thinking I'm involved in the Dark Arts, Tom, especially with everything that's going on. Mrs Norris getting petrified was bad enough, and then it came to light that Moody was actually a deatheater in disguise. Bad things were happening at Hogwarts, especially surrounding Harry Potter. The last thing she wanted was for people to think that she was involved somehow, or even worse, for things to start happening to her. The sleepwalking and nightmares had been bad enough.
Why do you care about what people think of you?
She started at the question for a long time, holding her quill limply in her hand. Her immediate response was that she didn't care, but obviously she did if it was bothering her this much. The words seemed to get larger on the page, like Tom was raising her voice. She realised she had no idea what his voice sounded like. She'd seen him in her dreams before, something that he confirmed himself, but she had never actually heard him speak.
I just don't like it. She wrote back eventually, disappointed in the gap of her thinking. Ginny wrote a goodbye, saying she needed to head off to breakfast before someone started getting suspicious. The diary felt unusually heavy when she walked towards the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was full of people by the time Ginny arrived. She squeezed into a seat next to Luna and started piling toast onto her plate. The buzz of conversation happened around her, and she made no attempts to decipher it. For once Ginny was just content to fit into the crowd, to be unnoticed and to just simply exist.
Of course it wouldn't last long. She had gone under the radar for just too long.
"There you are!" It was Cynthia of course, moving over towards her, red faced and out of breath.
Ginny sank down in her seat in her futile attempt to not be seen. Oh how she wished she was anyone else but herself in that moment.
Cynthia approached, bringing with her the attention of a small section of the table. Better that than the whole hall at least.
"Thought you disappeared," the other girl said, placing her hands on Ginny's shoulders and slumping over her dramatically. "You left so early I thought you would've been here."
The situation proved to not be as bad as Ginny expected. Cynthia apologised again, and Ginny assured her that it was fine, that she wasn't going to let the prodding of a scrawny Slytherin boy affect her. The two of them walked to their first class together. The air between them was only slightly awkward, nothing like it had been early that morning. Of course any attempts at turning the day around would be shattered the second Umbridge entered the classroom. She tried not to think about it.
"I promise Cato's actually really nice," Cynthia said, glancing sideways at the redhead. "He just has no concept about anyone else's feelings. He didn't mean to upset you, I promise. He feels really bad."
Ginny was only half listening to her rambling. Any previous embarrassment of her tantrum the previous night had vanished, now she was just concerned with getting through the day, reaching the weekend, and closing herself off in her bed to write to Tom. The tiny voice in the back of her head couldn't be ignored however. I hope he feels bad... Normally her internal dialogue didn't enjoy other people feeling bad, especially when she was involved. The satisfaction was present though, and begged to be addressed.
The time for that would have to wait, though, because Umbridge strutted up, clad in a horrendously bright outfit and a sour expression. Today's lesson is going to be absolutely wonderful.
Ginny's prediction was correct. Umbridge's voice was especially shrill, and her fingers were especially pointy. If someone so much as breathed too loudly she would shout and subtract points. Ginny slumped in her desk and feigned attention at the lecture about 'defensive mechanisms'.
"Of course if you do find yourself in a confrontation with a dark wizard or witch, it is absolutely vital for you to leave the situation quickly, and report everything to the Ministry."
Ginny tried to hold in her snort. Of course it was absolutely vital to run away from a dark wizard or witch, but if you didn't have anything to defend yourself, you'd be leaving in a body bag.
Umbridge's beady eyes fixed on Ginny, her eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.
"Do tell me what you find so entertaining about this Miss Weasley."
Ginny wasn't sure what took over her. An uncomfortable feeling bubbled in the base of her stomach, begging her to double over and lay her head on the desk. People had already turned their heads towards her, itching to see her get torn to shreds by the witch. Ginny met her gaze and immediately thought of some sort of poisonous frog. It would explain why she felt compelled to dress in such bright colours, she had to inform the other animals of the toxins that were flowing through her veins.
"Well?"
Ginny swallowed, her vision blurring slightly. She opened her mouth before she even had time to think.
"Well, Professor." Ginny's voice dripped with sarcasm, the two words already making the witch's face turn purple. "I was just wondering how we're supposed to escape the clutches of a dark witch or wizard when you've taught us nothing about defense." She'd already started, why stop there. "I mean it's right in the name of the class? Don't you think it's pretty useless to just spew theory at us?"
Ginny had never seen someone look so angry, even her mother's face when Fred set fire to her garden didn't compare to this. It was comical almost, all she was missing was steam coming out of her ears. Fear or remorse were nowhere to be found.
"How dare you!" Her voice was high enough to shatter glass; Ginny thought back to the mandrakes they had to look after in her first year.
Umbridge was squealing other words at her, ones she should probably be listening to, but she just couldn't find the energy to care. It was as though a dark cloud was hanging over her head, muffling the noise of anything outside.
"I'll be seeing you in detention for the next week Weasley. 20 points from Gryffindor for your behaviour."
She didn't bother going to her other classes, instead she pushed past her fellow students and stepped into her dorm's bathroom. She pulled off her uniform, tossing them on the floor and stepped into the shower, making the water just hot enough to make her skin tingle.
Thank you to everyone who's read this story, I appreciate your time, and thank you to the lovely people who took the time to write a review, it really means a lot to me.
Happy reading
-Red