Tom was the first to wake up the next morning, his arm completely asleep under Ginny, and his head felt like it was about to explode. Even the little light coming through the window bothered him. His perception was limited to the feeling of having her back against his chest.
What had happened? Why was she there again?
The last thing he remembered was to have gone up to the attic, sit at the desk with the diary in front of him, ready to examine some things while she was busy with the elf in the kitchen. What had happened after the moment he had opened the black notebook, was just not there. Tom sighed, restraining a pang of irritation caused by not being in control of the situation.
Ginny, feeling him move, turned around and buried her face in his sweater, sighing happily.
Hogwarts had one of the best libraries in the country, only behind the Ministry of Magic's Library in London. It had been there where he started his research on the Horcruxes, where he discovered how to create them, and therefore he holds the memories that preserved all he had read on the subject in the diary. He had built a small world where he could access that information whenever he started to forget some details.
The night before, he was wondering how it was possible that his own Horcrux could hold secrets from him. They were two parts of the same soul, and him, as the Creator, had to have full control over the Horcrux.
Those objects could appear very complex, no doubt that the spell to create them was, but after it was done, the Horcrux was only intended to wait for the death of his Creator, to design the perfect environment to kill someone - wizard or Muggle - and use the energy of the moment to create a body so that it could pull the rest of the soul back to the land of the living.
It was not supposed to be conscious, moreover, it was not supposed to have secrets, let alone, hurt or affect in any way its Creator.
As it seemed to have happened the night before.
Tom felt Ginny relax against him, and he unconsciously pressed her closer against him.
There was something big he was not seeing, but he was too exhausted to look for whatever it was in Ginny's mind. He closed his eyes and inhaled the musky scent of her hair, the faint aroma of vanilla on her clothes for her late night cooking session with the elf, which was barely noticeable.
He tried to remember whether he had already spent all the potion for the headache he had.
There was a limit to how much he could stand to have an arm with no circulation, so Tom started to move away from Ginny. "What time is it?" She asked holding onto his sweater tightly. "Harry, let's stay here…"
Tom stopped moving and looked at her. For some reason, he felt a prickly discomfort at being confused for her "Harry". After all, she was in his attic, in his bed, grabbing his sweater and in the comfort of his arms. A part of him wanted to change it, wanted her to be aware that it was he who pulled her to him, but the part that told him that doing so would only bring him more problems, wouldn't allow it.
"Tempting..." he said pulling his arm from under her. "But we have to go to work Ginevra."
Ginny was startled by the sound of his voice and pushed him back with such force that Tom got half off the mattress, suspended from the edge of the bed, just balanced through her hands that still held him by the sweater. Tom grabbed her hands and looked at her angry, "Ginevra! If you let me fall I swear..." She suddenly pulled him to herself, not letting him finish his sentence. She pulled him so close that all he could see her bright brown eyes full of suspicious. Feeling Ginny's breath hot on his face, on his lips, he began to get uncomfortable. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Looking at your eyes! I'm pretty sure they were red last night!" She said through gritted teeth, freeing him.
"Red eyes?" Tom repeated incredulously, as he rose from the bed and straightened the collar of his sweater. He opened the closet and took off some clothes. "Something really wrong would be going on with me if my eyes were red… Surely we would have spent the night in St. Mungo and not here."
"I thought something wrong was already going on with you..." Ginny said sarcastically, sitting on the bed, placing her feet on the cold floor.
"Well, nothing's going on," said Tom, ignoring what she was trying to say, trying to find his clothes and get away from the awkward situation he got himself to.
"No? Is it not? So what happened in these last two nights? I'm sure it was not me who started this!" Ginny replied, her voice barely lower than a shout, slamming a hand on the bed.
Tom stopped, wishing he had pulled the curtains that divided the attic before he had lost his good senses, that way he could now have a barrier between him and her. The first time, he was drunk, that was true, but this? He had no idea, but he wouldn't let her know that. "You may not have started it, but you also didn't do anything to stop it, and you didn't leave!"
"You think I didn't try?" Ginny asked furiously, and stood up, walking towards him and stopping at a safe distance with her hands on her hips. "You spend the night clinging to me, I was barely able to turn on my back!"
It was true that she had not tried to stop him, nor tried to keep him away, or even remembered waking up during the night to try to go back to the couch, which was disturbing enough, but the truth was, Ginny never would do that to him, under normal circumstances, if he was someone else like... Malfoy, she would have had hexed him so much he'd have spent the rest of his life at St. Mungos. But Tom was not just anybody, he was Lord Voldemort, and Ginny was not sure how he would react if she did such thing. She remembered that the Horcrux did not like being contradicted or harassed; she supposed that the original would enjoy it even less.
Every time she had done something like that, there had been consequences.
She would rather let Tom think whatever he wanted about her, for accepting to sleep in the same bed as him, than start a fight with the wizard of the century, especially when he was clearly unstable. Tom Riddle and red eyes were not a good combination, and she was sure she had seen them the previous night. Ginny loved to be alive. Moreover, it was not the first time that he made her company at night, not that way obviously, it was not the kind of relationship they had had when she was only eleven, but it was not something new. Besides, she could always imagine it was Harry who held her and hugged her, and this brought her some comfort.
It was more important to see Harry and her family again.
"What?" Tom asked, hiding the surprise her words brought him. That was bad.
"You're just really creepy sometimes." She said moving away from him and walking towards the window, turning her back to him and looking down at the deserted street covered with snow.
Tom dropped his clothes on the bed when he walked by it, striding towards Ginny. It picked at him, her saying such things about him, more than it should.
"You know what I think is creepy? Suspicious and odd, in fact?" Tom asked, folding his arms to resist the urge of putting his hands on both sides of her head to hold her between him and the wall. "You. I know you're hiding something, and I know that has nothing to do with Grindelwald." Ginny narrowed her eyes, not happy with the direction the conversation was taking. "And I'm starting to have a good idea about what is going on. "I expect you to share the truth with me before I find it myself..." Tom turned on his heels and walked to the bathroom, grabbing his clothes in the process, not seeing Ginny pale at his threat.
The atmosphere in the store during the rest of the day was tense, and could almost be cut with a knife. The customers flow had slowed and were back to the levels before the Ministry has decided to re-open cases against some of the most important families of the country.
Tom did not need Ginny's help, or asked for it, so she took the opportunity to reorganise the shelf further away from the front of the store, and Tom.
When was time to close, Ginny went upstairs before Tom even had time to lock the front door. They crossed in the hall, Ginny with its Pride and Prejudice book under her arm, ignoring him as she entered the kitchen to disappear into the green flames created by the Floo powder.
The reaction Ginny had that day, was precisely the one he expected. It meant she was afraid he would find out what she was hiding.
Tom remembered how Ginny had waited for him leaning against the counter, that night the Aurors had appeared in the shop, demanding to be let in, so she was not hiding from them. As she was working in a store known for its shady business and customers with a bad reputation, she was not afraid of being found by someone with a possible link to Grindelwald.
He was almost certain that his theory about her was right, how could she be less than a time traveller? Tom obviously knew why Ginny was there. He knew that everyone would know him in the future, so she had to know who he was, that was clear, but what did she want? Had he been able to achieve what he wanted? He was sure that he was going to have everything he wanted, but he also knew that his wishes and ideas would not go down well among many wizards. Some people would die for him, and others because of him.
Had she been sent to stop him?
Had the Ministry sent an Auror to end the problem before it started?
It was possible, but the time did not seem to be right.
Why try to kill him now, when he already had two Horcruxes? Certainly, it was still a fairly unknown wizard, the only remarkable thing he had done was not accept to go to work for the Ministry of Magic, but Tom was already more powerful than most wizards. Why not send someone to the orphanage where he lived before Hogwarts?
Tom tried to remember any other odd visits besides Dumbledore's, but nothing came.
Was her presence due to the fact of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Tom sigh, letting himself slip down his chair in front of his desk in the attic. The complexity of what he was thinking was a little overwhelming for the headache he still had from the morning.
This kind of coincidences did not exist, there had to be a purpose, a reasonable reason. Tom remained faithful to the existence of prophecies, but he would hardly accept coincidences because everything that happens is the result of a certain action, the chain of a decision that someone took, even when the reasons behind are unconscious and based on feelings and moods.
Although he wanted to ask the Horcrux what had happened, he was not in the mood to repeat what had happened the previous night.
Tom rubbed his face and stood up, leaning on the desk for a few moments before running the curtains that divided the attic, with a spell he pulled the blankets of his bed. A quick look at the clock on the bedside table told him it was quite late. He assumed Ginny had dined at the Cauldron and since the dining part of the pub was already closed, she would probably be staying in one of their bedrooms.
'Good! I can finally have a good night of rest.' He thought, pulling the covers up.
Ginny, had indeed dined at the Cauldron, but she had not planned to return so late to the store, let alone stumbling on her own feet. She cursed Tom's friends under her breath. The creatures had recognised her from the dinner where Tom had introduced her and insisted on buying her a drink, which Ginny accepted just to make them shut up. One glass turned into two and that in several small glasses of shots. When she realised, with a jolt, that she was laughing at the stories they told about their life in Hogwarts.
A night, drinking with Death Eaters.
Ginny took comfort in the fact that she didn't remember them in the future, they might have gained some sense and not followed Tom in his madness. Otherwise, it was one more thing she had to add to the list of things that she never imagined she would do.
She took off her shoes at the base of the stairs and slowly started to walk up. The candles were out and the room completely dark, which meant that Tom was asleep.
Ginny went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The black clothes gave her the appearance of someone who had just come from a funeral, her hair was all shaggy, her lips were swollen and her pupils dilated by the alcohol. She looked horrible. She washed her face and changed her clothes, ready to go to sleep, wanting to put the dinner and rest enough to face Tom the next day.
She plopped down on the couch and leant against the pillow, sighing wearily. Ginny had missed that uncomfortable thing. The contentment quickly went to feeling cold, the temperature had dropped even more in the last days, and that night it was strongly snowing, making the attic colder than usual.
Ginny couldn't find her blanket. It was not on the couch's arm where she used to leave it or on the ground beside it. Tom had probably returned it to the wardrobe. Ginny was not feeling very motivated to go through the curtains and investigate, but her teeth were starting to chatter.
It only took her a moment to find her blanket; it was lying over the other ones Tom kept in his bed. Ginny stumbled on her feet and nearly fell and for a moment she thought he had heard hear and awaken, but he didn't even move. Approaching slowly, she sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep.
One hand rested on his stomach, above the blankets, and his chest rose rhythmically, slow. He took a deep breath and frowned for a moment, perhaps subconsciously feeling observed. He had a relaxed expression, one he never had when he was awake, his lips were half open, shrouded in an air of innocence that did not match who he truly was.
Ginny leant forward, a curious smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
She wanted... wanted... what was it exactly? She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers and bit her lip, unsure.
What she wanted was to punch him.
Yes, that was what she wanted. And punch him hard! She had a list of reasons to do so, a very long list that began before the day he was even born and which ended with the newest, menial fact that he stole her blanket. He didn't deserve anything less.
That wasn't true.
Ginny took a deep breath and slowly pulled the cover from under Tom's arm, feeling overwhelmed with things that she hadn't thought about since the day she arrived. She leant forward and rested her head on Tom's shoulder while pulling the blanket over herself. It was like being near him, as if touching him, made him more real, helped her make sure he was not the Horcrux. That he was there. It was the Tom Riddle from 1946 she was, again, considering killing.
She could do it right now and he wouldn't even know what happened, she could take the ring he wore on the hand that rested on his stomach and the diary to Dumbledore, and prevent a terrible future. She only had to want it…
Ginny woke up with someone slightly pulling a lock of her hair. The sky was dark outside with heavy clouds, the sun decided to remain hidden, which was perfect because she did not feel like she was able to face its light.
Tom stood on his elbow by her side, resting his cheek on his hand, his fingers entwined in her hair, and completely focused on what he was doing.
Ginny, turned so she could rest on her back and face the ceiling instead of his neck, letting out a moan of the purest pain. Part of her was incredulous, on the other part of herself that was confused about what she was doing in Tom's bed, again, but this time without being "invited". She was perfectly aware of what she had done and could not find any logical explanation for it.
She would never drink again.
"You have some of the reddest hair I've ever seen…" Tom murmured, causing her breath to hitch.
"Tom?" Ginny whispered, paralysed with fear as his knuckles grazed her cheek, slowly sliding a finger down her jaw to her chin, fixing her gaze with an intensity that she had only seen in the Chamber of Secrets.
It had been the last thing she had seen that day.
He leant forward, mere inches from her. And smiled.
His lips met hers, and time seemed to stop and the universe shrunk. It was only her, and him, and the feeling of his tight grip sliding down the back of her head pulling her closer. The other hand roughly pulled the blanket off her and found his way into her waist. When his deft, cold fingers found the space between her sweater and pants, Ginny could not suppress a surprised gasp at his touch, and Tom used that brief moment when her lips parted to deepen the kiss.
Ginny felt lost in the intensity of his mouth, she closed her eyes, and when his teeth grazed her lower lip, she felt like an animal. She craved more. She pulled him to her, grasped his hair, desiring what she never knew she had wanted.
When Tom finally pulled away, breathless, Ginny stared at him. She felt a trickle of horror, a dawning, a realisation of what she had just done.
She was not able to breathe properly, her lungs heaving, gasping for air, pangs of anxiety and horror shuddering through her chest. Her hands felt from his hair to his sweater, trembling.
Tom was still looking at her, dimly curious about what she would do next. Ever the agitator, he ran his thumb along her waist, stopping to high on her ribs. He lowered his face to hers, ready for a second kiss, but Ginny pushed him away, stretching her arms suddenly and forcing him to take his hands from her to be able to balance himself.
"Don't you dare do that again, Tom! Ever!" Ginny snarled, pushing him to the side, causing him to fall hard enough to take away the air from his lungs.
She rose from the bed, crossed the curtains, leaving an open space on them and closed the bathroom door with a slam.
Tom, turned on his back and covered his eyes with his arm, a smile on his face, unable to stifle his shocked laughter. "Well, that was interesting!" He said to no one.
He got up shortly after, pushing the blankets aside and with a hand movement, the bed began to make itself and Ginny's blanket floated, bending along the way and gently landed on the couch. He changed his clothes peacefully, still riotously amused by what had happened, and was making a knot on his tie when Ginny left the bathroom. Tom watched her approach his desk, grab one of his pencils, hold her hair with it and disappear to the stairs. He noticed, with new eyes, how her clothes accentuated her curves, and remembering the feel of her skin on his hands.
He shook his head and smiled again, turning his attention back to his reflection in the mirror. When he finished buttoning his vest he ran a hand through his hair, combing with his fingers the locks she had dishevelled.
When he reached the kitchen she wasn't there, so he took an apple from the fruit basket and went downstairs to the store, but it was also empty. He sat on the counter and took a deep breath, continuing to eat and watch the calm environment of the store darkened by the storm on the street.
He was finishing opening the store when Ginny came down the stairs from the first floor, it seemed they were going to have a day like the previous one, where they would ignore each other. Tom had just sat down at the counter and opened the logbook to register out the orders for the day when she exited the warehouse, putting the leather gloves on and holding a cloth under her arm.
Tom grabbed her by the arm as she passed by him. "Ginevra…" Ginny raised her hand and closed her eyes, sighing. "Don't." She pulled her arm with a jerk and continued walking to the store's back. He sighed, aggravated.
He had admitted that the night before had been odd, he didn't know what had happened, but not today, and today he would not be ignored.
The orders arrived at that moment, and Tom pulled them to him with a gesture, making them stack neatly beside him at the counter, and he began to absently register them in the book, as he turned over in his mind what had happened.
He had almost summoned his wand when he awoke to someone grabbing his shoulder, and when he looked at Ginny beside him, almost invisible within her blanket, he still considered if he actually shouldn't. What was she doing there? He tried to remember if he had done something again, but no, he had slept all night, he didn't even hear her get back, or felt her lie down beside him.
Tom had decided earlier that night, given the hours they were, she must have decided to stay at the Cauldron, so he got her blanket from the couch. Perpetually chilled, as he seemed to be all winter's nights, he was not going to pass up the opportunity. However, he couldn't understand the connection between the two, she could have transfigured anything in a blanket, she could have come for hers and returned to the couch, despite that she had always respected the division that the curtains created, and never had crossed them before when they were closed. Why had she stayed?
Tom turned to his side, and she, feeling him move, pulled her arm under the protection of her blanket.
Ginny was like a puzzle, an extremely difficult to solve one and he loved a good challenge.
There she was, lying next to him as if all that had led them to share that moment was nothing special. He could get used to this, waking up with her at his side.
Not permanently, of course. After all, he had places to go and things to do that were not compatible with such life. A domestic, happy life with a fiery redhead at his side. It seemed charming, but it wasn't for him.
Maybe Abraxas was right, maybe he was wasting an opportunity. He pulled one of the locks of her hair and laced his fingers through its softness. But that did not stop him from feeling quite reserved on the matter, what he had said to Abraxas in the Cauldron still stood, and doing more than what they were already doing did not seem right. Something deep in his conscience said that.
But she was there, in his bed, for the third consecutive morning and he could not forget the feeling of her on him. The way she fit perfectly into his arms and against the curve of his body. Then there was the way she acted around him, an honesty that a life between the orphanage and Slytherins had not provided, no one offered anything without wanting something in return. This thing, the innocence of her manners, it was an odd attractor to him, and he found himself wanting more.
When she woke up, and sighed, leaving her lips slightly open for a moment, looked at him with those brown eyes, a world of a difference between them. He couldn't resist. He grasped her face and kissed her. He seized her the way he seized all things he desired, with a hunger and a feverishness that set a fire to all that it touched. Tom almost let a moan escape when she opened her lips when his hand grabbed her waist, his long, pale fingers nipping at the soft flesh of her stomach.
When she responded, she acted with just as much need as he did. She grabbed at him, the way a drowning man grabs for life above water, pulling him to her, fingers tugging his hair with one hand, her arm around his shoulders, clutching at his sweater, he was sure she wanted this as much as he.
Tom's train of thought was suddenly interrupted when Ginny threw the cloth at his head, and he grimaced unpleasantly. "What was that for?" He asked angrily.
"Just stop." Ginny said as she started to walk up the stairs.
"Stop what?" He asked, smirking, understanding what she had done.
"I know what you were thinking." She said, stopping in the first steps of the spiral staircase, looking murderous.
"And what was I thinking?" He asked provocatively, his tongue wetting his lip as he watched her subconsciously put her hand on the same place on her waist that he had touched that morning.
Ginny took off her leather gloves and threw them against him, one slapping against his chest, the other he caught with his hand. "Jerk."
Ginny turned her back to him and walked up the stairs, trying to ignore the laughter that followed her to the upstairs floor.
She was furiously preparing a couple of eggs for her lunch, rethinking the options she had made up until that point, about not starting a confrontation with Lord Voldemort and risk her life and livelihood, so she did not hear him enter the kitchen, a moment later after closing the store, and almost dropped the bowl when his arm brushed hers.
"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed, looking at him angrily.
"Hmm? Making food? As I do, here, every day?" Tom answered indifferently, opening the silverware drawer to take a knife from the inside.
"Weird, is the first time you have to be glued to me to do it..." She said sarcastically.
"But the bread is here beside you. How can I make a sandwich without bread?" Tom observed her for a moment, like she had a problem, looking honestly confused.
Ginny sighed exasperatedly and looked at the ceiling for a moment, she could see herself cursing him, and she didn't care about the consequences. This was unacceptable. "Tom, the bread is over there!" She pointed to the other side of the kitchen. "Where it always has been, and where you always told me to put it."
Tom followed the direction of the finger. "Oh... my mistake." He turned back to Ginny, resting his hip against the counter and pulling a tress of Ginny's hair, lacing it through his long fingers before Ginny jerked back and walked towards the stove with the bowls in her hand. "I completely forgot."
"I'm not joking; I don't want you near me with... with that attitude." Ginny took out her wand and hit the stove nozzle, causing a flame to light up beneath the skillet.
And then he was behind her. "Ginevra..." The voice whispered – she whirled around. He had closed the distance between them and would've been up against her had she not had her wand pointed at his chest.
"Tom." Ginny felt a chill run up her back when his expression changed, his face was impassive, his eyes cold and his body had tensed, building up the energy to defend himself if necessary.
With a wave of his hand, Ginny's wand fell to the ground and Tom took the last steps that separated them. "I do not like being threatened, Ginevra." He said emotionless, his hand tightening around her wrist. "Don't do it again."
His hand snaked its way around her waist and pulled her to him with a jerk, forcing Ginny palms to splay onto his chest, trying to keep some distance between them.
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, watching his finger trail her cheek.
"What do you think?" His voice had become rough, low. Hungry.
"I don't want this."
"Oh really? The way you were this morning… you could've fooled me." Tom lowered his face towards Ginny's, but he merely just touched his lips to the shell of her ear. Ripples of sensation wracked her body and she gasped. She could feel his smile against her skin.
"Then should I start to be careful with what you give me to drink or eat, Tom?" She muttered, but he ignored her, his mouth on her jaw now, leaving the ghost of a kiss. "If you get tired of waiting for me to cooperate, will you give me a love potion?"
The mention of that potion was enough to pull him away; he looked into her eyes suspiciously, frowning. Ginny immediately turned to the stove and poured the eggs into the boiling butter, already burnt in some parts of the skillet.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Tom asked coldly, but making clear that he was angry with her words when he clenched his hands into fists. Ginny stifled a nervous laugh, how could he not be affected? Harry had told her, she knew about his half-crazy mother who forced the man she had fallen in love with to be with her through love potions and spells, and he, knowing very well what had transpired between them, could not be anything but bitter about the disastrous events that led to his existence.
"I have a feeling, you're the kind of man who hates not having what he wants, even more than Abraxas." Ginny continued, with her back still turned to him, firmly focused on her eggs.
"Abraxas?" Tom was still rooted to the same spot and Ginny had to push into his shoulder to make him move out of the way and let her pass with the frying pan.
"When he had lunch with me the other day, he told me you were quite possessive when interested in someone." Ginny put the pan on the wooden board, took a dish from the cabinet and poured the eggs into it. "It didn't leave a good impression on me, and it is one of the main reasons I was not interested in… your advances. It does not seem to be very healthy behaviour." She said turning to look at Tom, with the dish in her hand, before sitting down at the table and begin to eat, making a cup of water float to her after calling back her wand from the floor.
Ginny raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, feeling apprehensive, hoping not to have pushed any button too hard and pass the barriers he had built around his family history. It was with relief that she saw him smile and pass a hand through his hair. Maybe he understood her reference to the potion as some kind of comparison to a Muggle drug, and not something related to his family.
Good.
Tom walked over to the counter and also took a dish from the cabinet and put some bread on it, throwing the small package back into the basket. With a spell he made the dish and the jam jar rise up in the air to finish his lunch, and made the kettle float to the fire to prepare some tea.
"Abraxas." He said with a laugh, sitting beside her and resting his face on his hand. He watched her eat for a moment before speaking again. "Possessive? What more did he say about me? I think he only said that because he likes you."
Ginny did not answer.
"If you want to know, you kind of hurt my feelings." Tom said, a smile playing on his lips.
"I hurt your feelings?" Ginny asked, incredulously.
"A lot!" Said Tom. "Abraxas is a bad influence, Ginevra, he likes to lie to get what he wants. You should keep yourself away from him."
"I'm sure he will keep his distance, after all, with all that 'marking',Afterall" She said, raising her hands to form finger quotations, rolling her eyes. "You did; he will not get near me."
Tom smiled, amused that she brought that up after what had just happened, but he couldn't resist but to be malicious. "It takes more than three nights for the "mark" to work, maybe you should sleep with me for a few more, to make sure that it does not fail. After all, his party is almost here and you know he likes his drink."
"Tom, don't." Ginny rolled her eyes and finished eating. "And I'm not going to his stupid Christmas dinner or whatever." She said pulling the Daily Prophet to her and opening it in such way that she couldn't see him, disappearing behind the yellowed pages animated by photos of wizards and witches who had done something remarkable that day, even if it was just remarkably stupid, like the conversation they just had.
Hours later, Ginny was nibbling a sugar feather, while trying to solve the crosswords from that morning's Prophet. She was back on her couch, covered with her blanket and lying on her pillow.
As it should be.
The radio softly played some music on the floor beside her, but this time not because Tom was working at his desk. Madame Hepzibah Smith had invited him for dinner, and he had been unable to refuse. He almost dragged himself down the stairs to the kitchen, after closing the store, and was resigned that he had thrown the Floo powder into the fire and entered the green flames.
Ginny sigh, immersed in the tranquillity the attic had that night. The moon rose high in the starry sky, the light passed idly by the stained glass of the round window, creating some reflections here and there, disappearing as they approached the orange aura of the few lit candles she had floating around.
She was a few chapters away of finishing her book, which meant that on the next day she would have to make the sacrifice of going to the Flourish & Blots and find another one to read. Something with more pages this time, and then have dinner at the Cauldron. Ginny smiled. Life was unfair, making her to leave the store like that and be away from her problems for some hours.
She closed the book and put it on the floor, turning and trying to find a comfortable position to sleep, the body estranged with the small space after three nights in a comfortable bed. 'Comfortable from it being big, not because I slept with him.' Ginny thought, it was important to make that clear. She sighed. She was trying to deny herself the need to process what had happened the last few nights, trying to avoid at all costs to think about what would her family think about this, what Harry would say if he ever knew.
But that kiss... that kiss, it rivalled her first kiss with Harry. But, she could not compare the two, they had been so different, just like the men were so different.
A world apart. Literally.
Ginny pulled the blanket over her head, stunned. What happed with Burke, was happening with Tom, she intentionally placed herself in a situation that could go wrong, that went wrong, and now she was again trying to blame someone else for the foolish decisions she made.
It was not too late to ask Dumbledore for that house with a garden in the south of France.
She heard Tom's steps in the bottom of the stairs, and he stepped to hard, obviously tired. He closed the door behind him and took a breathed heavily, looking around, noticing that Ginny watched him from the couch.
"How did it go?" She asked, pulling the blanket closer to her.
Tom took off his coat and vest and dropped them on the desk top, widened his tie and undid the first buttons of his shirt before sitting down on the couch in the small space that wasn't occupied by Ginny's legs. "It was horrible." He said rubbing his face. "For me personally; to the store, a tremendous success." He rested his arm on her leg and looked to the wall in front of him.
"Congratulations?"
"She insisted again on me going to her New Year's party... Will you go with me?" Tom asked plaintively, turning his attention to Ginny. "One night of hard work to please the old Smith so that we can bring some extra profits to the store?"
"That does not sound very fun."
"Malfoy will not be there, and I could really use my assistant's help on this."
Ginny scratched the tip of the nose thoughtfully. "Since you put things in that way, I think I can go. But it's the New Year... it's special."
"I don't remember sharing with you that it was my birthday..." Tom said with a sly smile.
"It is? I didn't know!" She lied, of course she knew. "It's kind of sad that you have to go to her party..."
Tom rubbed the bridge of the nose. "Honestly, I would rather stay here, I've a lot of things to read."
"Ha! Nerd!" Ginny exclaimed, giving him a slight kick in the back, making him smile. "Anyway, I meant January 1st."
"What about it?! He asked resting his chin on his hand, watching her carefully.
"It will be the day that I'll be able to move to the Cauldron and you will have the attic to yourself again!" she said enthusiastically.
"Oh... I completely forgot." said Tom, leaning back, resting his back against the couch over her legs, in a very uncomfortable position and not sharing her enthusiasm. "I think I'll miss you, I already got used to your company."
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "It's not like I noticed." she said sarcastically.
Tom put his arm back on her thigh and sighed tired, closing his eyes.
Feeling him to start dozing off, she pushed him slightly with her legs. "Don't fall asleep here! Go to bed."
"Hmm?" Tom rubbed his eyes and stood up. "I need a shower." He said hoarsely. "That woman has a horrible perfume that penetrates everything. Can't you smell it?"
"Nope." Ginny pulled her blanket up, to make up for the part that Tom had flattened when he seated, turning on her back.
She was asleep when Tom called her name. Ginny opened her eyes and peered over her hip. He had pulled the curtains and peered through the opening. "What is it, Tom?" She asked almost with no voice, rising on her elbow to be able to see him better.
"Something is about to happen." He whispered, his eyes dark gemstones in the dim light.
"What are you talking about?"
"Can't you feel it?"
"Tom, please, what's going on? I don't understand..." Ginny sank back, covering her face with her arm dramatically, to emphasize that the game he decided to start in the middle of the night was killing her.
In a moment, he was beside her, his grip like a vice on her arm. She gazed up at him; his face was a ghostly mask.
"Dementors."
A/N: Kudos to my beta sinsinnatus from Tumblr!