A throbbing pain gripped Ginny's head; the dorm spun around until she was sick. Dry heaves seized her, squeezing the contents from her stomach — bile, gastric juices, and the partially digested remains of a fig. She tried to remember when she ate it, but a new fit of headache hit her, followed by panic at the sight of her dress soiled with blood and feathers.
Clutching the curtains, Ginny hoisted herself onto the bed and reached for her quill and diary with too-weak fingers. She couldn't write anything at all, only leave a smudge of pink ink, so bright it hurt her eyes even in the dim light shrouding the dorm. It was still a faint blotch when Tom's writing exploded on the parchment.
What happened?! Why did you vanish all of a sudden?! Why are you showing up now?! I've been waiting to hear from you for hours!
Have you an idea of how worried I was?!
Sorry
I don't
know
what
happened
The ink's artificial strawberry smell made her sicker, but she didn't have the strength to take another bottle of ink.
Are you alright?
Your handwriting is odd…
My head
is dizzy
and
I've thrown up
There's blood
She rubbed her forehead and winced at the bump.
Maybe I fell
off the bed
Maybe you drank too much potion
Tom's sentence sounded eerily accusing.
Ginny frowned, but even that simple gesture gave her pangs. She was sure she had only drunk a small sip, just as Tom instructed; the vial was almost full…
She searched it with her hands — she didn't want to light her wand; she didn't want her headache to worsen. She found it among the folds of the blanket, with the cork nearby and, to her dismay, empty.
"Maybe I didn't seal it and it spilled…"
But the blanket was dry, and the burgundy fabric had no stains; nor did the sheets underneath.
Merlin, I drank it all!
But I thought I'd only taken a sip
There's sips and sips, Ginevra
It was a small sip!
I swear!
How could you drink it all?!
I didn't mean to!
I warned you that this is an extremely addictive potion!
How could you be so
Inconsiderate?
I thought you were smarter and wiser than this!
Good heavens, there's laudanum and absinthe in there!
Fly agaric urinate! Ergot!
Should I go through the ingredient list all over again?!
Tom's words were replaced by printed text — the potion's ingredients with the degree of danger, the uses and side effects, the safe and lethal doses— which substances would enhance the effect.
Tom even showed a medieval miniature of a man writhing while flames burned his arms and legs, which fell off like charred stumps.
Forgive me
Ginny wrote between sobs, letting her tears fall onto the yellowed pages.
Forgive me
Tom didn't answer right away
Stop whining and go to sleep.
I'm too angry to talk to you right now.
It was a strange night, filled with nightmares of blood, feathers, and evil yellow eyes veiled by translucid lids; dark, damp, narrow tunnels; and cathedral-high rooms with walls that enclosed over her. And a female voice, hissing and inhuman, laughing at her. In these nightmares, cruel flames burned her fingers and toes, slowly consuming her flesh as they went up her arms and legs.
At one moment, she felt like floating, though still warm. Something delicate and comfortable enveloped her — it smelled nice and friendly but didn't make her any better.
.
When Ginny finally opened her eyes again, she was not in her bed, and a wet, vinegar-smelling cloth was on her forehead. It took her a while to recognise the infirmary and Percy studying beside her. Her brother adjusted the glasses on his nose, leaving a smudge of brown ink on his face.
"Hey," he whispered with a soft smile.
Percy pushed the parchment aside and helped Ginny sit up, handing her a glass of water.
Ginny burst into sobs.
She had been caught and would soon receive Mum's Howler like Ron. She'd done something tenfold worse any prank Fred and George could have pulled. And what was worse, Tom, her only friend, was angry with her.
"It's just a bad case of flu. There'll be other parties…" Percy said, misunderstanding her tears.
Ginny gulped. She was relieved that Percy didn't know about the potion, but it didn't change the fact that Tom was angry.
A Ravenclaw girl called him over, tapping her finger on her wrist watch. Percy ruffled Ginny's hair, gathered his things and stood up.
"I have a Prefects meeting now, but I'll be back as soon as I can. Oh, and those chocolate frogs are from the twins." He beckoned to the bedside table. "Think twice before eating them."
Ginny barely had the strength to nod and sniffle. But as soon as she was alone, she sank her face into the pillow and cried again.
Tom was right to be angry with her. She had drunk too much potion and had not kept her promise to be very careful with it! She didn't reply back for hours; she made him so worried. Her head spun even more as she tried to remember what had happened, but she didn't know what was real and what was a dream.
Yes, it was a bad dream, the one about hanging Mrs Norris by her tail. It was a bad dream, the one where she wrote some nasty stuff on the wall. It was a bad dream, the one where she sneaked into dark, dank tunnels with a voice hissing in her ears. It was a dream, the one where something crunched and chewed. It was a dream, the one where she shoved sharp scissors into a chicken's goitre, hot blood spurting everywhere. It was a dream, the one where she kissed Tom—
No, that wasn't a dream. Ginny was sure of it.
She had kissed Tom.
Tom was angry about that too! The kiss offended him.
By Merlin's underpants, Ginny didn't want him to think badly of her! Mum always told her to keep her distance from the boys if she didn't want to become like Mrs Zabini! But she didn't do it on purpose, really! She only wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek!
She sank her face into the pillow, sobbing.
Tom should think she was just like Mrs Zabini, which was why he was so angry.
Ginny couldn't blame him.
From day one, she told him how much she was in love with Harry Potter, that one day they would get married and live happily ever after. She told him how she pictured the first time they would hold hands or fly on a broomstick together — the first time they would kiss.
Really, Ginny had been as bad as Mrs Zabini by giving her first kiss to another boy, even though she hadn't done it on purpose!
"Hey, are you hurt somewhere?"
Sniffing, Ginny turned her head slightly, meeting Madam Pomfrey's worried gaze. She shook her head.
"My-my friend hates me…" she whimpered.
The nurse sighed, placing her fists on her hips.
"Do you think so because you didn't go to the Halloween party with her? A friend would understand that you didn't get sick on purpose." She handed her a glass filled with a ginger-scented potion. "Drink this and when the fever is gone, look for your friend: if you talk to her from the bottom of your heart, I'm sure you'll make up."
