Final Riddles

In response to why Tom/Hermione seems to be more popular, I'd like to give a shout-out to Ra'iira the Fiend who came up with the best answer: Tom/Hermione is more popular because people have the biggest boner for crack pairings.

Good answer.

Even if, I guess, Tom/Ginny isn't quite the conventional pairing, either.

Thanks for all your reviews, and sorry this came out so late. [I meant for it to come out… a month ago? Heh.] Life got busy [woooh college!] and I didn't end up editing it like I planned…. ANYWAYS ENJOY!

A season away from springing

I come before the crash

And after the summer

I make my windy blast.

Chapter 8: Fall

"This private meeting has been called in order to discuss the rank of Ginevra." Tom nodded to the Council at large behind folded hands with elbows propped upon the table. "As requested."

Along the table only one seat was empty. She was still in the hospital wing, unaware.

Elfin, Rank Two, was the first to speak. "To say the least, her character is… different." He paused, searching for tactful wording. "Had I not seen the badge pinned to her chest, I wouldn't have pegged her to as a Slytherin."

"To be fair," inputted Zabini, Rank Five, "I wouldn't have pegged her for any of the four Houses. There's something otherworldly, almost, about her that just can't be classified."

This last statement Riddle could understand, though he gave no indication of it. For a while now, he had fancied Ginevra to be a strange combination of Gryffindor and Slytherin – a Gryffindor heart with a Slytherin awareness.

"Which brings to mind her Sorting," Riddle interrupted. "Away with generalities, we are here to discuss specifics."

Silence reigned for a moment before parchment was shuffled and throats were cleared. Again it was Elfin, Rank Two, who was the first to speak. "There are the rumors… So many I wouldn't know where to begin."

"My favorite one suggests she's a half-breed. Part vampire," Zabini said, and a couple tight grins flitted across faces, "no doubt conjured by a Hufflepuff. The most interesting, however, are the ones told by her dorm mates."

"Malfoy claimed that Ginevra had a stash of potions," Renaldi, Rank Three, said. "I figured that she was an addict – but after the Quidditch spectacle yesterday, the potions could be medicinal."

That sparked an argument as a series of Council members voiced their opinions, and Riddle leaned back in his seat, ready to enjoy the exchange.

"Medicinal potions can become drugs, if you get too dependent," Vaque, Rank Four, said. "I haven't ruled out Ginevra being an addict yet."

"What about everything else Malfoy said? Like how Ginevra's violent even in her sleep." Lestrange, Rank Four. "Apparently she used to sleeptalk, sometimes cry out, until she placed a Silencing charm on the drapes."

"Potion-induced hallucinations. That's why she screams out at night, I bet. I think she's an addict," Vaque affirmed.

Razzaire, Rank Two, finally spoke. "Either that, or maybe she just has nightmares."

"What kind of nightmares would make you scream at night, consistently?"

"Think about it – we don't know much about Ginevra. She doesn't even have a surname. All we know is that she's bloody good with hexes, has some health issues, and the like," Razzaire reasoned. "I'd wager she's being protected by the school from some affair with Grindelwald and had some nasty experience that needs to be remedied through potions."

"I'm partial to the addict theory. Her abysmal performance in schoolwork, her violent behavior, her withdrawn attitude – these are all symptoms of a typical addict."

Passively, Tom listened to the exchange, eyes darting across the room to follow the speaker. He personally found no reason for Ginevra to drop in rank, which was the ultimate point of discussion. But if it was decided that she be removed from the Council, so be it – perhaps, in her desperation to regain power, she would remove all resolves she had about him and follow him completely.

No, she wasn't like that. Tom quickly amended his thoughts, though the idea of Ginevra needing him, solely, pleased him. But realistically speaking, she would likely be happy to renounce her rank. Through her pursed lips Tom knew she disapproved of the ranking system altogether, and she felt uncomfortable with the power she held over other people's lives. Ginevra was more of a recluse. Oftentimes disappearing into isolation where no one could bother her, and she could bother no one.

But was she an outsider by choice? From the way she sometimes rambled to him about ideas that a wiser Slytherin would have kept unspoken - love, being one of her favorite topics, and prejudice, another - Tom thought she was somewhat desperate for company – desperate for an associate with whom she could relieve her burdens. That he, Tom, should be her choice to unload her thoughts –Tom, of whom she was so exceptionally wary – was a mark that testified to that foolishness.

And yet she could find others to associate with, if she wished. Ginevra was by no means incapable of being sociable. He witnessed her as an easy conversationalist when speaking to Zabini, a man who, like Tom, could not be disliked- by most people, at any rate. (Though, Tom wasn't sure at the moment how much he liked Zabini.) Tom himself was sometimes impressed by her witticisms, despite his critical character. So why she chose to distance herself from the world she watched with guarded eyes, when she was so hungry for company, he didn't understand.

"I hear there's talk about dropping Ginevra to fifth year classes, because she can't handle her courseload."

"Isn't she taking NEWT-level classes? How did she manage to get placed into those classes?"

"Many people wonder that. Apparently once in Potions she mistook a bat wing for a goat bladder."

As the conversation moved toward frivolous rumors, Riddle lost interest and mentally tallied the number of rumors he knew to be untrue. Ginevra was simply not understood by the Hogwarts population at large, and the Hogwarts population did not care to approach her and learn about her. This was due in part to the reclusive aura she exuded and, in part to her tendency of hexing those that startled her. And so without allies she was regarded as a freak, unprotected during slow gossip days.

He was certain she knew about many of these rumors. Some of the more ludicrous ones he told her in the course of conversation, and Tom was continuously surprised how easily she took them. Even with bitter rumors that insulted and burned, she would smile contentedly – and sometimes laugh lightly – in an almost happy, nostalgic manner.

Had the rumor mill spouted such lies about him, he knew that there would be, at the least, one more student than normal in the Hospital Wing. He certainly wouldn't be amused enough to smile.

But if Ginevra was anything, it was full of surprises.

"Not to mention, she doesn't seem to respect the boundaries between Houses. And she tried out for the Quidditch team – Ginevra certainly doesn't respect the idea of tradition at all."

That Tom agreed with – Ginevra not only refused to accept tradition, but she delighted in defying it. Or perhaps she was accustomed to a different kind of traditions, one of wherever she came from – and refused to adapt to their traditions.

The fact remained that Ginevra contradicted almost everything he stood for, understood, and believed in. But then, there was still that certain allure about her…

Tom looked up to see who it was that finally said accurately something about Ginevra, only to find (with some distaste) him to be Zabini.

"Flint did confide that he would not allow Ginevra to be a part of the team," Lestrainge said. "I, for one, think he has the right idea – Ginevra is not one of us, doesn't think like one of us. I'd wager that she doesn't even want to be one of us, and we, for the most part, don't want her to be a part of us. Who is she to hold a Council position, to hold power over us?"

Because she held a different mindset, Ginevra could offer ideas the rest of them never would have thought of. That was what she had to contribute –

Tom caught himself. That voice in his head sounded strangely like Ginevra's.

He pursed his lips, intrigued by the thought. It certainly wasn't because she was influencing him, that much he knew. Rather, it was as if he was starting to understand her world views, her playground rules.

When the Council voted a change in her rank – from Rank Five to Dreg – Tom did not protest. In fact, it satisfied him in some twisted way, knowing that none of the other Council members understood Ginevra quite like him – not even Zabini.

Even more, it pleased him to know that Ginevra would be even more socially isolated now.

He rather liked the idea of Ginevra sharing her time with no one but him.

…

"Tempurator hoch!"

It was pitiful, really, how her little cup of water wasn't even steaming. After dipping one finger into it, Ginny realized it wasn't warm at all. Just room temperature, purposely defying her with, she imagined, a self-congratulating smirk.

"Tempurator hoch!" she tried again, testing out different pronunciations, stressing different syllables. "Tempurator hoch! Tempurator hoch! Tempurator hoch!" With a violent jab of her wand, she accidentally tipped the cup over, water leaking everywhere on her desk.

To her left, her blonde roommate – Malfoy was her name, she had earlier remembered – giggled. "Aww, Miss Ginevra can't evaporate her water properly," she said mockingly as she stirred her wand in her own cup, where the water was slowly crystallizing. "Had to empty it the Muggle way."

Ginny ignored her, cleaning up her spill and righting her cup. "Augamenti," she said, intending to refill her cup but ended up shattering it when a jet stream poured from her wand rather than the trickle she wanted.

Malfoy promptly dissolved into laughter as the professor came to inspect the results, frowning. "See me after class, Miss Ginevra."

Feeling her face heat up, Ginny nodded and kept her head down. "Reparo." The pieces obligingly flew back together. One of her favorites, it was one of the few spells Ginny never fumbled with. She used to break twigs and shatter plates on purpose when the war worsened just so she could repair them, watching the smithereens reunite in seamless glory. There was something therapeutic in knowing that she could fix something when everything else in the world was falling apart.

Right now, she was tempted to shatter this cup on Malfoy's head with no intention of repairing it.

"You know, Ginevra," Malfoy said, "I heard the reason McGonagall's been hanging around is because of you." When Ginny didn't respond, she continued, "That you're being tutored – and by a Gryffindor, no less! You must be desperate, aren't you?"

The bell rang, saving Ginny from losing her temper.

"You're shaming the Slytherin house, you know," Malfoy said in a low undertone. "You will drop McGonagall, even if you are desperate. And that's an order – from your superior."

Ginevra took her time gathering her books as Malfoy swept her hair over her shoulder and left. Ginny had been taunted and ridiculed mercilessly since her rank fell, but Malfoy seemed to take personal delight in the drop and was the worst of them all.

Slowly, she dragged her books up to the front desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Professor Cuttlebridge looked up from the essays he was grading with a heavy sigh. "Miss Ginevra, it pains me to say that your work has not been improving."

She winced at the blunt statement, hesitating before trying, "I know, sir, but I'm working on it – "

"If I don't see progress, I can't allow you to continue taking NEWT-level Charms," he said sharply. "Today's class was just a simple phase-changing spell, and if you can't even manage that… Have you found a tutor yet?"

"I – "

He heard her voice falter, "If you are not even making an effort to – "

"I have, sir," Ginny said quickly. She couldn't let him remove her from the class. Dropping Charms would mean more time for her to get lost in memories, and she needed the work to keep her distracted. "I found one only recently, though, and we haven't set up a schedule yet."

Cuttlebridge remained skeptical, tilting his chin down and peering at her over the frames of his glasses. "You have? Who?"

"Tom Riddle," she spewed out, though she internally winced. If Cuttlebridge approved…

He nodded, "Ah, I see. Mr. Riddle's a good lad. Well then, Miss Ginevra," he said, "I'm glad you found a tutor. I hope to see some progress in the future."

"Yes, sir."

Cuttlebridge approved.

This meant she needed to crawl back to Riddle and beg him to offer being her tutor once more.

Merlin, she hated this. Her pride was dying of shame.

"Have a good day, Miss Ginevra."

"You too," she muttered as she adjusted the strap of her bag, turning away to leave the classroom. She didn't know how she could ask Riddle to tutor her without losing all of her dignity, and she could already see that grating smirk of his that always emerged whenever he felt he had command. Just envisioning the slow half-smile was enough to frustrate her, her fingers itching to hex the next person who turned the corner of the corridor –

"Fancy meeting you here."

- who happened to be Zabini.

"Hey," Ginny said offhandedly.

Zabini peered down the corridor. "I suppose you just came from Charms?" When Ginny nodded mutely, he continued, "I was headed that way myself, to talk something over with Cuttlebridge, but it's nothing urgent. I'll walk with you, if you don't mind."

Zabini's company was probably the one which she minded least, around here. He was pleasant to talk to, with an easy-going attitude, and was the only one – excepting Riddle – who still spoke to her in the same manner as her Council days. And his snarky side comments made her smile.

Still, there was the side of him she met that first day in Transfiguration - where he had an indifferent and calculating attitude - that bothered her. He was a Council member for a reason, and she felt uncomfortable talking to Zabini for too long – who knew what was running through his mind or how much more of her he was now dissecting?

They fell into step together, silent for a while, before Zabini spoke up. "I hear you rejected the position on the Quidditch team."

Ginny scoffed, "You know that Flint wouldn't have me anyways."

"Well," Zabini pointed out, "you were offered a Chaser position, so that must count for something."

Shooting him a skeptical look, Ginny said, "We both know that me getting offered the position was purely because of politics. I don't know how Riddle talked Flint into giving me the position, or why – and I'm not sure I want to. But after seeing the climate I'd have to weather being a part of the Quidditch team…" She shook her head, "No thanks."

A small smirk toyed at the corner of Zabini's lips. "I would've imagined you to find the harsh climate to be part of the appeal. Taking up the challenge, showing everyone how it's done."

Maybe she was like that once, but now she didn't feel like being bothered with it. "I tried out for Quidditch because I wanted to be able to enjoy myself, not find another front to battle."

"Makes it look like you gave up, though," Zabini commented nonchalantly.

"I…" She hesitated. She knew those words were supposed to fire her up, and she was supposed to be defiant and pursue her position in the Quidditch team. Because that was who she was – a hot-headed girl who acted according to her beliefs, regardless of consequences. She rode on the back of a thestral into battle when she was fourteen! She helped reinstate Dumbledore's Army! "Maybe I have given up."

His eyebrows rose at the admission. "That's not the Ginevra I know."

She wondered briefly what the Ginny he knew was like, and if he knew Ginny better than she, herself, did. After a moment of hesitation, she said with a wry grin, "It's not the Ginevra I know, either."

Ginny could feel his sharp gaze slicing through her. "It's because of the ranking system. I didn't think the fall would affect you this way as well."

She wanted to say that, no, it wasn't the ranking system, but rather that she never fully recovered from her war experiences. That it was too difficult to find the confidence to be passionate when there was no one there to support her. Not to mention she was using all of her energy fighting against Riddle's influences, fighting to change Riddle's ideas. She kept her tongue still, however, and asked, "It's happened to others?"

He looked at her, eyes somewhat wary. "Yes. The sudden destruction of someone's ego, the sudden loss of all company… It's a humbling drop."

"No friends among Slytherins, huh?" Ginny commented.

"Even those who actually like you cannot associate with you anymore for political reasons," Zabini said.

There was a slightly mournful note in his tone, and it reminded her of the one other time he had assumed that grave chord.

"Evalis. You said she was a Dreg."

"Mud Dreg," he corrected, hesitating before saying, "She was once at Degree One."

The guarded look that clouded his face told Ginny that he was not going to explain why Evalis dropped in rank. "You pity them."

He snapped his head around to look at her, "Pardon?"

"When you speak of others – others, who give up so much just to climb up one rung on the social ladder – you speak so indifferently. Like it's natural. But those who fail – you pity them." When Zabini didn't respond, she continued, "Because you're a sympathetic person at heart, and you worry for those who have nothing at all to cling to."

She remembered a voice during her imprisonment. In the agony of black, there was a masked woman on the other side of prison bars, descending from the hallways above to speak to her timidly. A Death Eater with regret, or a Death Eater's wife, or daughter, or someone simply caught in her own prison with no bars – regardless, she was a voice who offered Ginny something human to cling to for a few brief moments while she waited in her black hole.

The woman didn't visit often, but when she did… And then, she stopped coming altogether, for reasons unbeknownst to Ginny…

A silence settled between them, before Zabini said with a strange sort of calm, "You know, when someone makes observations about a person, you – generally speaking – keep them to yourself."

A blush rose to Ginny's cheeks as she realized what she had voiced might have angered him. And what then? Was she turning away the one person who treated her better than scum? "Right. Sorry." Then, smiling cheekily, she said, "Am I right?"

He scoffed. "Of course not. You make me sound almost like a Gryffindor."

"There's nothing wrong with sounding like a Gryffindor," Ginny said, instinctively defending her old House.

"Not if you're a Gryffindor," Zabini acknowledged. "In which case, there's a lot more wrong with you than sounding like a Gryffindor – namely, actually being a Gryffindor."

She felt a contented smile rise to her lips. House rivalry – one familiar thing she could cling to from a world fifty years away.

After Zabini left to meet Cuttlebridge, Ginny thought over what he had said.

Makes it look like you gave up…

She told Dumbledore that when she gave up, she'd be letting Voldemort win. And she hadn't given up yet – but maybe she just wasn't trying as hard as she should. And then there was the matter of herself – she wasn't the person she used to be.

If she wanted to change Tom Riddle, she needed to, first, change herself into somebody who understood and lived love and laughter, not someone who hid in library corners because she couldn't face the naivety she saw in corridors. And there was no need to dull her Gryffindor attributes simply to gain Riddle's attention – she knew she had it already, though why, she didn't know. It didn't matter. Right now, she needed to fix herself. She needed to stop living like a war victim and start living like a war survivor given a second chance.

Around the corner, a Hufflepuff juggling too many books dropped one tome to the ground. Stooping down to pick it up, Ginny offered, "Do you need help?"

The Hufflepuff regarded her with suspicion, his eyes darting quickly to her Slytherin badge. "N – no, I'm good."

"You sure?"

He nodded, and she carefully stacked the book on top of the pile that was already tipping precariously once more.

"Thanks," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Ginny smiled. "You're welcome."

…

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