Disclaimer: This story includes characters and situations that are part of the Harry Potter universe, which is copyright J.K.Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury, etc. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made in the production of this FANFICTION. Not many outside resources were needed this time, but I (as always) made extensive use of the Harry Potter Lexicon when writing this chapter.
Author's Note: This one turned out much longer than I expected it to be, and I haven't even done everything I had planned to do. But I had to stop it there or it would have been half again as long. In any case, I hope you enjoy – more Tom/Ginny, and so forth. Thanks to my reviewers, Fantome (Wonderful to have you back, darling! I was so happy to see your reviews this evening!) and liltrick, and thanks to my Beta reader, Katy.
Expectations of Grandeur: Chapter 10: A Bad Night's Sleep
Ginny Weasley awoke with a pain in her back from the admittedly haphazard way she had fallen into bed the night before. She yawned and blinked, trying to stretch out the aching muscle, but nothing would properly work, and so, sighing and clutching her back as she stood, she hobbled to her trunk to pull out work robes for the first day of her fifth year at Hogwarts. She hardly saw Jeannette before the blonde girl had cheerfully tapped her shoulder and whispered, "Trying to get out early to meet your new Slytherin, Ginny?"
Ginny blinked, confused. She always overslept – she had naturally assumed that today would be no different, and rolled out of bed ready for the usual rush to get to the Great Hall early enough to catch breakfast before heading to her first class. But looking around and seeing Amelia, Elisa and Gwen still tucked in their own beds and the sun still rising in the pale pink sky barely visible through the crack between the curtains told her something vastly different. "What time is it?" she asked Jeannette groggily.
"Almost five thirty," answered Jeannette cheerfully. Considering the hour, Ginny thought wryly, Jeannette's mood was really astonishing.
"Why are you awake?"
"Same reason as you are, I suppose. I wanted a better look at that new Slytherin so I figured I'd get to the Great Hall early. Besides, I always wake up before you lot – I have to have time to apply the cosmetic spells and all."
Ginny nodded slowly. In her fourth year, Jeannette Arlia had not only discovered members of the male gender, but also the use of charms and potions to hide any blemishes she should have and beautify her rather average features. Ever since, she had been rising early to apply the correct spells before heading to breakfast – Ginny knew this well, but she had always guessed that a few minutes were time enough to apply any charm Jeannette should want – evidently not, as breakfast didn't start for almost half an hour.
Jeannette's face, even with the puffy eyes, splotchy skin, and mussed hair that Ginny could only guess was the result of being halfway through the process of applying various spells, was round and cheerful – and definitely awake – as she sat Ginny down next to her. "I suppose you'll want me to help you with them, now," Jeannette said cheerfully.
Ginny shook her head hurriedly, backing away from her wand-wielding friend. "No, no, no," she assured the other girl. "I thought it was much later – I'll be going back to sleep now," she jabbered. "You know, I always wake up so late I just figured I had again and I hardly even looked around before I was at my trunk reaching for robes and you had started talking to me. Tell me what he says, though, I'm sure you'll find him perfectly despicable." She had backed up to her bed, almost terrified with the prospect of making up her face, and now sat down because she couldn't take another step back.
Jeannette saw her face and frowned. "Well, if you're sure… but it would be nice to have company for once, at least." She turned her big, blue eyes on Ginny and widened her eyes in as pathetic a fashion as she could. "Please, Ginny? Now that you're awake and everything."
Ginny sighed and nodded. "I suppose I wouldn't be able to get any sleep anyway," she whispered and sat down next to her friend in front of the vanity Amelia and Elisa had transfigured out of the inner shelves of Jeannette's dresser. Jeannette grinned as she spread purple goo over her face.
"What does that one do?" Ginny asked glumly.
"Moisturiser – makes sure I can get all the rest of the stuff off," Jeannette answered, smiling, as she rubbed it into her skin. "I suppose it also helps with complexion and such."
Ginny nodded and yawned. "Deadly interesting, this," she quipped.
"Well," Jeannette said, "You'd like it more if you were open to it – give it a shot, you'd be amazed at how much better you look."
Ginny yawned. "I'd prefer people look at me because I have something to say, thank you very much," she muttered.
Jeannette just sighed and rubbed another cream into her face. "Freckle remover," she said, not really caring if Ginny wanted to know.
"But you don't have any freckles," Ginny insisted.
Jeannette just shrugged. "Well, I certainly haven't since I've started using this," she answered. Ginny just rolled her eyes and pulled out her own wand, idly twirling it in her hand as she sat in silence. "So, Ginny," Jeannette said, as if to break the silence, "who is that new Slytherin – and why are you keeping it a secret from the rest of us?"
Ginny closed her eyes. "I'm not hiding anything from you," she said, as calmly as she could. Jeannette couldn't find out – none of her friends could find out – this was her own problem and she was going to deal with it on her own.
"That's a lie and you know it," Jeannette answered quickly. She had probably convinced Ginny to stay awake for the express purpose of hounding her with questions, but Ginny wasn't going to fall for that. "Look, you treat him like he's as bad as You-Know-Who himself. That's not just stuff you've heard from your parents and other Order members. And I may not be the smartest of us, but if I can tell something is up then I'm sure that Amelia has a hunch as to what it is. I just don't want another first year – that was hard on everyone, Ginny, and that's the only other time I can think of you've kept secrets about your actions. We're here to help you, what is it about him that scares you so much?"
Ginny gulped. How much did Jeannette know? Could she have linked Tom to Ginny's first year already? If Ginny was that obvious, it wouldn't be long until it was all over the school that she had been possessed by Voldemort, that she had been stupid enough to let herself fall into the hands of Voldemort's fifteen year old, inexperienced, self. She shook in terror and anger at the very thought of that. "I'm not afraid of Tom," she said, quietly, decisively, as much to convince her self as to persuade her friend.
Jeannette grabbed her shoulder. "Tom? Who's Tom?" she asked, visibly frightened. "I haven't heard you talk about a Tom since your first year. The new Slytherin is Ophicus…" she trailed off, staring Ginny directly in the face. "Oh," she said finally, looking down and setting her vanity in order before turning to Ginny's trunk and demolishing it.
"What are you doing?" Ginny hissed into her friend's ear, but Jeannette wasn't satisfied until Ginny's trunk had been turned inside out, all her things sprawled onto the floor.
"Where's the diary, Ginny? I know you've got it – you're clamming up again and I'm not going to let you. You told me, the last day of your first year, to never let you isolate yourself like that again. You said no diary writing ever again – and I'm not going to let you, Ginny. Where's the diary?" She was a flurry of frustrated panic, and she held Ginny's shoulders so firmly that Ginny couldn't move.
"There is no diary, Jeannette," Ginny whispered, shaking her head. "I promise, there is no diary," and the tears in her eyes spoke for her truthfulness. "I wish it were only a diary," she gasped, as the tears fell and she sunk into silent crying.
Jeannette sat down next to her and pulled her out of control red hair out of her face. "Okay, Ginny. I'm sorry I jumped on that, I really am. It just worries me – it doesn't make sense why you'd be so scared of him, so scared of Hogwarts. You've never cried on the first day of term, and you'd been crying hard – I could tell from your eyes. And besides, you said it yourself that he made you think of your first year, and then you called him Tom – what was I to think? What does he have to do with your first year and your diary, Ginny?"
Ginny gulped. She looked straight at Jeannette and knew that she should probably just tell the girl what was going on, but somehow that would bring up too many other, more horrible things in her mind, and she resolved that maybe it was best for her to just keep her mouth shut and let Jeannette figure out the situation for herself. "I…" she began, and then she just broke down into tears again. She had to tell Jeannette something, the girl just wouldn't relent and take her eyes off of Ginny, releasing her from that paralysing blue gaze.
But finally Jeannette did look away, and she said, sadly, "I can't get you to say anything, Ginny. But you have to know, if something is going to happen to you or if you think something is wrong, you should go to the teachers. That's what they're here for, Dumbledore and McGonagall and them. Or you should go to your friends, because any of us would be proud to be the one to stand up for you. If he's bothering you, it doesn't matter how cute he is, he's just the Slytherin prick who was picking on our friend."
Ginny smiled at Jeannette's concern, and stopped crying. "Don't worry – I don't think he meant to make me cry," she said at length. "Everything's under control," she added.
Jeannette smiled down at her and stood up quickly, managing the distance to her vanity in two steps and, positioned in front of the mirror, fixed her face up with two words. "Breakfast starts in a few minutes, Ginny. Why don't we go down together?" she asked.
Ginny blinked, shocked that her friend was so suddenly ready. "I thought that took you half an hour," she admitted.
Jeannette wrinkled her nose. "That would be horrible! To have to spend half an hour on my face each morning! No, I just saw you awake and figured something was up, so I came up with an excuse."
Ginny grinned at her friend and had a hard time not laughing – all this time she hadn't noticed Jeannette was still in her bright purple nightgown. Quickly, the two girls changed into robes and silently they exited the room to head to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Down in the Slytherin dungeons, Tom had awoken even earlier than Ginny, and was sitting restlessly in his bed, ruminating on his situation at Hogwarts. It would be good to go to classes again, he realised with a hint of a smile. It would be very good to go to classes again. It felt so good to just hold a wand after those years and years of timeless sleep, his fingers wrapped about the wood with a sense of grace and action that was pure heaven when his body ached like it did now. But somehow, he was disconsolate about everything except the prospect of going back to classes.
Ginny had sorely hurt him in her conviction that he was evil, in her persistent fear of him. She said she needed proof, and he understood that. He would have written her down as a complete fool if she didn't need proof, but at the same time he winced under the very idea of that innocent little girl pinning him down as evil. She had been so trusting, so naïve. But, he reasoned, that had been five years ago, according to Dumbledore. Ginny Weasley had grown up.
And my, how she had grown. Tom had barely recognised the young girl for his picture of little, freckled, clumsy Ginny Weasley, and would have guessed she was someone entirely unrelated had he not been expecting a Weasley – and she was the only Weasley girl. Of course, he knew that he had seen the right girl. The missing professor through the sorting ceremony – McGonagall – had probably spoken to her before hand, warned the young Weasley about him. He sighed.
He was still something to be warned of, even to the people that accepted him as not as evil a young man as ever graced the good earth. He sighed and sunk deeper into his rumination. He had left the Great Hall in a desolate mood, having resolved that Ginny spoke the truth – it would be better for both of them to each just ignore the other. He strode down to the dungeon slowly, disappointed, because the last thing he wanted to do was relinquish any meetings with the girl he had been so taken with when she was only eleven. And Ginny had even dared him to prove his truthfulness, so why shouldn't he take that as a request for further relations? Something in the back of his mind revolted at the very thought of allowing her to continue in her incorrect perception, and although he wasn't sure how, he knew he had to prove his sincerity to her. When he had arrived before the wall that would open to his password, the first years had long been escorted inside, leaving the corridor empty. "Serpensentri," he had called impatiently.
But thinking back on it, he decided that perhaps he would have been better off to just stay outside and sleep in the empty hallway, because things certainly hadn't looked up for him when he reached his dormitory and sunk onto the bed, letting out a huge sigh as he pulled off his polished black shoes. Behind him, someone spoke up.
"What the bloody Hell is Potter doing in my dormitory?" cried a boy from the opposite corner. Tom snapped his head around to scan the darkened room for Harry Potter, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Someone had the presence of mind to flick on the lights and Tom saw a boy with hair so light blonde it might be white staring at him from the foot of his bed. "Oh, you're not Potter, you're that new bloke," he answered proudly. "No scar. No scarhead." He smiled and laughed at his own joke and the other three boys laughed along with him. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," offered the boy at the foot of Tom's bed, the one who had spoken to him. "Slytherin Prefect. I'll introduce you around tomorrow – you can't tell how much a good introduction will help these days."
Malfoy had done all this without so much as noticing the prefect badge on Tom's lapel, and Tom stood and pulled off his robes, making sure to display it proudly. "Ophicus Marvolo," he said, offering his hand to be shaken. "Slytherin Prefect." This boy's conceited manner and assurance put Tom on edge, and the very thought that Tom Riddle would need introductions to get him in with a group of Slytherins was blasphemy to the black-haired boy. His charm and natural talent would prove to anyone that he was a powerful wizard, and soon he would have the Slytherins here in awe of him, just as they had been in the old days at Hogwarts. He hardly needed some whining good-old- boy to allow him entrance to the club. Tom had decided to prove that with one flick of his robes. Malfoy gaped at the badge.
"But you can't have two Slytherin Prefects," he muttered.
"Dumbledore handed this to me himself," Tom answered quickly. "I don't know about you – maybe you've been replaced, Malfoy."
One of the boys, the one who had lit the room, snorted from his side of the room. "Malfoy? Replaced? Never. His father's on the board of directors."
Tom just laughed. "Well, maybe someone finally decided to reward competence rather than ancestry. You never know."
Malfoy stood up. "You won't get far by insulting me, Marvolo," he hissed, and soon the light was out and Tom was left to sleep.
Somehow, he hadn't gotten along at all well with his new housemates. He hadn't expected them to instantly be his best friends, after all, what was Slytherin about but preserving the old order – fostering ambition in those who were worthy of having it and denying power to those who were obviously unworthy? But he knew he had a long way to go to achieve even their trust, much less their friendship, and somehow he knew that the warm adulation he had felt in his previous years at Hogwarts as a model student and slick Slytherin were long gone. He sighed and thought he ought to get down to breakfast, but the meal wouldn't even start for half an hour unless Hogwarts schedules had changed since his days there, and he doubted they had. So he waited, and he thought.
Suddenly it seemed strange, Dumbledore handing him a Prefect's badge and telling him he could continue his responsibilities, because of course they would have chosen another boy in the fifth year to be Prefect, and of course that boy would be proud of his achievement, simply by dint of being a Slytherin, and of course whoever he was wouldn't want to be displaced. Tom shook his head. Either Dumbledore hated this Malfoy, or he had designed to start an argument between the two boys, or both. Tom laughed. Dumbledore was still as cunning as ever, and for once that formidable power was not used against him, allowing him to appreciate it.
But the very thought of someone mistaking him for Harry Potter – the very idea of Tom Riddle being confused with the Gryffindor dream boy – sickened him. Malfoy couldn't have done him a worse insult, and he had a vague idea that the other boy knew that. Harry Potter, with his faultless goodness, his ability to break rules and not get punished, his insistence that he was, in fact, at the centre of everything, and his annoying habit of being the hero of every story Tom heard Ginny Weasley tell irked him to no small degree. He wondered bleakly what Harry Potter had done to get all the world to love him, what Harry Potter had done to get young Ginny to adore him to the point that she did. All Harry had was a scar and a history of standing up to Voldemort – and winning, Tom thought bleakly.
Of course, when thought of in that way, it was painfully obvious. Harry Potter had a history of trying to deal with the horrible problem that Tom Riddle had caused. And for that Tom hated the Gryffindor more. Somehow, Voldemort was a personal problem between himself and Ginny, one that he would deal with on his own, and not one that required the assistance and guidance of Dumbledore's favourite student. Harry Potter was just getting in the way of things.
He hadn't slept hardly at all the night before, forced into wakefulness by nightmares of his time in the Chamber of Secrets and by worries of his future at Hogwarts. And through it all, his ears had been ringing, buzzing with hatred, as with high-pitched laughter. He slid out of his bed and opened his trunk, taking out a set of work robes and pulling them on before turning to exit and take his time up to breakfast. No one else was awake.
When Tom Riddle entered the Great Hall, it was deserted. The only people at the tables were a few Ravenclaws, scattered down their table with their noses stuck in books, and two girls at the Gryffindor table, cheerfully talking and laughing. Tom's eyes grazed over the Ravenclaws and came to rest on the two Gryffindors – Ginny Weasley and someone else. Breakfast had just started, no one would come for quite a while, he decided, as he went to sit by the two Gryffindor girls.
Her friend noticed him first, and prodded Ginny, nodding towards him as he came towards their table. Ginny made eye contact with him, and her lower lip trembled in fear, but she took one ragged breath and composed herself, looking paler but confident and aware. He sat down without saying anything.
"You have the wrong table, Marvolo," Ginny declared scathingly. "Your table is on the other side of the hall."
Her friend joined in with a condescending air. "You might not know, as you're new to the school and all, but we sit at tables by house here" she began, but Tom cut her off.
"I assure you, I know how the Hogwarts system works quite well, being a Prefect. And as no one from your house is in need of this seat, I assure you I am well within my rights as a student to sit here." He glared at Ginny and her friend, uncertain of what to say next.
"You're Prefect?" asked Ginny, shocked. "What about Malfoy?"
"I suppose I've displaced him," answered Tom. "Either that or there are two Slytherin Prefects."
Her friend shook her head. "Just what we need. More Slytherins to chase us around and bully the first years in the hallways."
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," began Tom, "My name is Ophicus Marvolo."
"I know," answered Ginny's friend. "You told the whole school last night, unless you've forgotten." There was an awkward pause when it seemed like the girl was not going to give Tom her name. This girl appeared to hate him more even than Malfoy. "I'm Jeannette Arlia," she finally said.
"A pleasure," said Tom curtly, before adding, "And I certainly don't bully the first years. What good would that do? They're more useful when they're not so scared," and smirking wickedly.
Ginny's friend, Jeannette, laughed, but Ginny just glared at him. "And I suppose that's all you care about – their use to you?" she said softly, "Some way of thinking for a Prefect." She set down her spoon and stood up. "I should be going, Jeannette. I can still get in some studying." She nodded to Tom and to her friend and took two steps toward the doorway before she was again halted, this time by Hermione Granger entering. She took a step back and sat back down as Hermione happily waved to her, missing Tom completely or only seeing his black hair.
Hermione had soon sat down next to Ginny and caught a glimpse of Tom's face. "What are you doing here, Ophicus?" she asked calmly, though her face spoke worlds to her panic.
"Eating my breakfast," he answered, coldly. "But I sense that I am not welcome," he added, and began to stand, but Ginny's friend spoke up.
"No, sit down, we've been terribly rude to you and all you've tried is to follow Dumbledore's requests, to foster friendship between the houses. I apologise for these two," she said, nodding towards Ginny and then Hermione, "and I hope you'll accept our apology."
Tom was shocked, he hadn't been offended in the slightest, but he hadn't thought of the potential implications of what he had said to Ginny before he said it. He was returning to his table to admit defeat that he had failed miserably at regaining her trust for the time being. But now he stopped and turned back to the three girls. "Thank you, but I assure you I am not offended," he answered coolly, "Ginny was referring to her first year, I assume? It is understandable, from what I have heard it was truly a horrible experience."
Hermione had frozen at the mention of Ginny's first year, and Ginny glared at Tom more than ever, but Jeannette appeared to be getting a very positive impression of him and smiled widely before she realised what she was smiling about and the hints of happiness vanished from her face. "That was a hard year for everyone, I think," she said.
"Certainly," replied Tom, and they all ate in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "But I really should be going to my own table. Soon enough the room will be full of hungry students."
They nodded, and he left to return to the still empty Slytherin table. Students were trickling in at a faster rate now, and soon there would be someone to remark upon his odd placement. Back at the Gryffindor table, however, he had a very powerful spokesperson. "He seems nice, Ginny," Jeannette said.
Ginny said nothing, and Hermione spoke up. "Appearances can be deceiving," she said quickly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't trust him," Ginny answered shortly. "He's probably lying with every word he says."
Jeannette just shook her head. "You're prejudiced, Ginny, you can't hardly know him. You just don't trust a new Slytherin because you're afraid of new people or something since your first year – especially not a new Slytherin who shows interest in you; well, maybe he doesn't have an ulterior motive. Did you ever think of that one?"
"You're just saying that because he looks better than any other boy in his year," Ginny muttered. Jeannette was silent, and for once Hermione had nothing to say.
Soon enough, just as Ophicus had predicted, the Great Hall was full of students and Harry and Ron had appeared next to Hermione. The three were speaking under their breath to each other, Hermione doing most of the talking and appearing to be very excited about something. Jeannette turned to Gwen, Amelia, and Elisa, who were just arriving from the Gryffindor Tower to sit beside their friends. "Ginny, you're up early," Gwen commented.
"I caught her going out to meet with her Slytherin," answered Jeannette, grinning conspiratorially at her friends. "He was here at six in the morning."
Elisa rubbed her eyes sleepily and even Amelia looked surprised. "And so were you?" she asked. Jeannette nodded.
"He seemed nice," she added, as Gwen shoved some more food into her mouth.
Elisa's eyes went wide and Amelia gaped in wonderment, but Gwen nearly spit out all the porridge she had been eating voraciously. "You talked to him?" Amelia gasped.
Jeannette nodded. "He came over to sit by us, and was all charm. He's Prefect this year, so you'll get to see him plenty."
"But that's impossible, Malfoy's Prefect," answered Amelia quickly. "And we can't have two Slytherin Prefects in the same year."
Jeannette just shrugged. "He said he was, and I saw the badge myself. He's a Prefect."
Amelia just smiled in wonderment.
The owls came swooping in before long, and a schedule plopped down in front of each of the girls. "Charms first!" cried Ginny happily, perusing her schedule for the day before heading towards her first class. All five of the girls sat together through a rather predictable first Charms lesson. Afterwards, they trudged up to the north tower for Divination.
Professor Trelawney had broken her tradition with Ginny's class – instead of predicting the foul demise of any student; she would always gaze deeply into Ginny's eyes and weepingly confide in the girl that someone she loved dearly would pass away over the course of the year. Of course, this had not happened yet, unless you counted Sirius, but Ginny's casual relationship with the man had hardly qualified as 'loving him dearly'. But still, the strange lady gazed at Ginny as she entered the room and said, "I am sorry, darling, but the fatal day nears. Someone you love will pass before the end of the year."
"Yeah, right," answered Ginny as she took her seat. The incense was more powerful than it had ever been, and Ginny wondered if the professor was perhaps compensating for having to share the post with a Centaur by being even more forcibly her old self. But the warm room and powerful smell was getting to her and she suddenly realised how little sleep she had gotten the night before. Trelawney began to lecture in her dreamy voice, and Ginny felt herself slipping away.
She was in her common room, crying spasmodically, and someone was comforting her, but in the back of her head she heard a high pitched laughter, an unnatural laugh, one that she had only heard once in her life and had always prayed she would never hear again. Her stomach lurched and she tried to pull herself away but all she could do was clutch whoever it was that was comforting her and cry, afraid and unhappy. She looked up for a moment and saw – it was Tom.
He was laughing.
She awoke with a start, gasping for air and looking around her warily. Her friends were there, standing up. Divination was over. She flung her bag across her shoulders and left the room, following them. "What were you dreaming about?" asked Jeannette quietly.
"Nothing. Just another nightmare," Ginny answered and her friend accepted it.