Chapter Text
“So, the password is ‘merry meet ’?” Ginny clarifies for the third time.
“Yeah,” Harry says with a confirming nod. He looks good, all black and tight trousers. His t-shirt is tucked in. He shifts, tucking a stray lock of wild hair behind his ear, as Ginny looks him up and down. “Sirius...Sirius bought this for me. I’ve never...worn it.”
“You look good,” Ginny drawls. She grins wolfishly. “Dressing up for anyone?”
“No,” Harry hisses, eyes darting around to see if anyone is listening in. But, Lavender is standing by the fire in her little black dress with Hermione and Ron. Ron is practically drooling, and Lavender’s finally convinced Hermione into a silky camisole that shows off her shoulders, tucked into jeans, and a pair of heeled boots that have to belong to Lavender—they’re cheetah print.
“Sure, Harry,” Ginny teases.
Harry huffs and looks away. “Why do you need the password anyway?”
“I invited some friends.” On cue, Ginny turns to watch Seamus and Dean descend the steps. They look a little formal for a party, both in button-downs that are tucked in, but they look similarly good.
Ron drags his stare away from Lavender and glares at the pair.
“What are these two prats doing here?” Ron asks.
“I invited them,” Ginny calls.
Ron frowns.
“Are you sure?” Lavender asks.
“Yes. Now, go on ahead. We don’t want Luna wandering in circles around the castle. Crouch might try to give her detention even if it isn’t curfew yet,” Ginny says.
Harry nods in agreement and nods towards the door. “Alright, you lot. Let’s go find Luna,” he calls. He leans in to whisper in Ginny’s ear. “Do you need me to hex one of them?”
Ginny snorts. “I can take care of them all on my own. Don’t need a knight, Harry.”
“Okay, you brat. I’m just trying to be a good friend,” Harry grins. He backs away, after giving both Seamus and Dean suspicious looks. He leads the crowd out and Ginny turns to face her friend dates.
“Hey, uh, Ginny,” Seamus mutters. “I just...thanks for inviting me after...you know.”
“No, I don’t know,” Ginny drawls. “Say it for me, maybe.”
“After uh...treating you terribly. I was jealous of how much of Dean’s time you were taking up, so I...I lied,” Seamus admits. “I’m so sorry.”
Ginny rolls her eyes. “You should learn how to share your toys, Seamus,” she snaps. “And you’re lucky I’m so forgiving.”
She turns to Dean and beams at him. Dean smiles back and leans in for a hug before he rocks up, holding his hands up.
“Boundaries,” he says.
Ginny nods her agreement. “Boundaries,” she says. “So, I have permission for this party. If we’re stopped in the hallway for any reason, I’ll just verify with the professor that Riddle put me down on the list. Hermione says any prefects patrolling also have lists of verified students.”
Seamus looks impressed that Ginny’s part of the cool crowd. It makes her roll her eyes. She leads them out the door, pausing only when she sees Romilda, Yacine, and Stella in the corner by the window. Romilda nods at her.
Ginny nods right back with a tiny smile.
Then, she leaves with Dean and Seamus following after her, and Ginny leads them down the steps. She wonders if she’ll catch up with Harry, Ron, and the others, but they’re probably already dancing in the dungeon by now, if Luna was at their meeting spot of the Entrance Hall.
“So…they throw this kind of party every year?” Seamus murmurs, mostly to Dean.
It’s Ginny that answers, nodding all knowledgeable like she’s in the know.
She guesses she kinda is in-the-know.
“They do. Slytherins usually follow the Old Ways. You know what that is, right?” Ginny asks. Seamus nods just as Dean shakes his head. Ginny nods, and carefully tucks her arms into Seamus’ and Dean’s arms. “Well, the Old Ways are our traditions. What you call Halloween, we used to call Samhain. It’s the night when the Veil between the living and the dead is the weakest. They don’t have permission to host it during the Halloween Feast, but Dumbledore let them have it the day after. It’s supposed to be Slytherin-exclusive.”
Dean’s mouth presses into a thin line. “I imagine that your invite was through Zabini.”
Seamus grimaces.
“Are we…are you sure we’re welcomed?” Seamus adds.
Ginny rolls her eyes. “Well, first, if Zabini did invite me, it wouldn’t be your business. Second, no, I was invited by Riddle.”
Seamus jerks out of her hold, turning to look at her with wide eyes.
“Do you know Riddle?”
“Merlin, no,” Ginny sniffs. A sly smile crosses her face. “But, he wants to know Harry Potter.”
Dean raises an eyebrow. “And when you say ‘know’, you mean—”
“Acquaint himself,” Ginny says, electing to use Riddle’s own terminology. She leans in, like she means to whisper a secret. “He was rather impressed when Harry took him apart. He asked him out for drinks, and Harry turned him down. After he threatened you and Zabini and Malfoy, he invited me because he wanted Harry to be there tonight.”
Dean looks like he’s been hit over the head by a revelation, but he doesn’t say anything. Seamus, on the other hand, hems and haws at the very idea that Harry took down Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin.
“Riddle’s going to be the youngest Minister for Magic in history,” Seamus insists. “Do you know that he’s already been approached by at least three departments to work for them after he graduates?”
“I didn’t know you were a Riddle fan,” Ginny grins.
Seamus flushes. “I just have a lot of respect for him.”
“What three departments?” Dean asks.
“The DMLE, the IMC, and Mysteries,” Seamus says.
Ginny scoffs. “See, I doubt your intel. The thing about the Department of Mysteries is that everything they do is a mystery. Including who works for them, Seamus,” Ginny teases, and Seamus shakes his head, leaning in.
“No! I really heard it! One of the Lestrange brothers, Rodolphus, said something about it, and Riddle hushed him apparently, and Rodolphus looked terrified,” Seamus insists.
Ginny shrugs. The Department of Mysteries wouldn’t let something out like that.
“If you say so, Seamus,” Ginny sighs.
She has her doubts, but if it’s true about anyone, it would be about Riddle.
Nothing seems to touch him except prosperity. It’s honestly fucking annoying.
“Well, I heard that he’s going to accept an offer working in the Minister’s support staff as Junior Assistant,” Dean says.
This piques Ginny’s interest.
“Right out of Hogwarts? Impossible!” Seamus says, shaking his head.
Before Ginny can add her two Knuts, they’re already descending the stairs into the dungeons. Ginny looks for the blank stretch of stone wall, and she finds it rather quickly between a portrait of Merlin and Phineas Nigellus Black.
“Okay so... merry meet! ”
There’s a cracking sound as the stones began to part, and Ginny’s excitement begins to mount as the stones open to reveal a long, dark pathway, lit only by a green ghoulish light. She leads them in, and the sound of music explodes almost immediately after crossing the threshold.
The Slytherin common room is a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire crackles under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and the common room is packed with Slytherins, and a few select Ravenclaws that Ginny recognizes.
“Wow. Why don’t we ever have parties like this?” Seamus asks.
“We do when we win Quidditch matches,” Dean says distractedly.
Ginny turns around and grabs both of their hands and grins. “Stop talking. Let’s dance! ”
"Gon' pull me up, pull me up, pull me up
And never let me drown (never let me down)
Gon' pull me up, pull me up, pull me up
I'll never hit the ground (never let me drown, never let me drown)"
“Zabini,” Harry drawls, looking the bartender up and down.
This is the boy that was the meaning of temptation for Ginny. He’s handsome enough with his smooth dark skin and white teeth, and very sweet looking curls, but he’s not Harry’s type. He nods at Harry like he knows him, and Harry guesses that he does, in some capacity.
“Look, Potter, I’m not just handing out alcohol to anyone. Snape could show up at anytime, and I’m not trying to get detention. I get a manicure in Hogsmeade every two weeks, and I’m not trying to ruin my nails scrubbing cauldrons,” Zabini insists.
Harry wonders how he doesn’t ruin them on a daily basis doing basic tasks. Harry can barely write an essay without getting an ink stain on his shirt.
“Well, lucky for you, I just want a butterbeer.”
“On that, I can deliver,” Zabini says and he ducks under the bar and slams a bottle down. He taps the cap with the end of his wand and pushes it forward.
Harry takes it and swallows the sweet, creamy liquid and sighs. He loves butterbeer.
He’s just getting ready to enjoy his ice-cold butterbeer all by his lonesome when a shadow darkens his whole fucking night. Harry sighs as someone leans against the bar and practically looms. Harry is by no means short—Ginny is short, and Harry has more than a few centimeters on her, thank you ver much—but Harry has always thought Tom Riddle was unnecessarily tall.
But, Remus says it’s rude to ask someone if their height is a birth defect.
“Did you get my letter?” Riddle asks.
Harry’s cheeks burn at the memory. Harry’s name curving over the parchment and then: It would be an honour to have someone as lovely as you grace the presence of our common room. The password is ‘merry meet’. Faithfully yours—
Harry snorts. ‘Faithfully’. Fuck Riddle.
“I heard you asked after me,” Harry says. He doesn’t look up from his butterbeer, because if he does, he’s going to want to say something that Riddle will make him regret.
Usually, that wouldn’t be a deterrent, but for some reason, his self-preservation sounds like Hermione and it’s screaming, HE’S OUR TA, HE CAN HAVE A NEGATIVE IMPACT ON OUR GRADES. Harry weighs the consequences. It’s true that Riddle is probably petty enough to attempt to fail him. It’s also true that Moony is his professor, and Harry is fucking excellent at Defence.
He looks up from his drink and glares.
Riddle just looks amused.
“I was. I wanted to be sure that you’d be here. And here you are,” Riddle says.
“Don’t get too excited. I’m not here for you.”
Harry takes another sip of his butterbeer and turns to look over the bar, absently watching Zabini mix drinks. He looks over at Harry, his lips twisted with amusement. Harry rolls his eyes as he feels Riddle’s heat shift forward as the taller man leans against the bar. Harry sighs.
“Do you like the party?” Riddle asks.
Harry shrugs. “The hosts could be better,” he says scathingly, and very directly looks up at Riddle, eyes narrowed in a warning.
“What are you doing next Saturday?” Riddle asks.
“Saturday night detention.”
“Anything else on your list to-do?” Riddle asks with a charming smile.
Harry sneers. “Not you.”
Riddle’s lips twitch. “Are you sure about that, darling?”
Darling, he calls Harry.
Harry has never been called that in his life.
He has never heard Riddle call anyone that.
And it terrifies him.
“Look, Riddle. I’m not interested in being one of your many acquaintances,” Harry barks.
Riddle leans forward with that smirk on his face, that smirk that he thinks is charming, but Harry is just fucking annoyed by it.
“Oh, Harry Potter. You’re a bright boy. You have to understand that every time you say no, I’m just more encouraged.”
Harry scoffs. “What kind of circular logic is that?”
“When you finally say ‘yes’, it’ll be just that more satisfying.”
Harry rolls his eyes so hard that he thinks they might just roll out.
“Good bye, Riddle.”
Riddle stares at him even after his dismissal, and Harry sighs. The Slytherin is absolutely of the worst kind—an entitled brat that thinks his ancestry will get him places. It just so happens that Riddle is a Slytherin and an actual Slytherin, so his ancestry just might get him somewhere far. And he knows it. He’s also the type of person that knows how good looking he is.
Harry’s lips curl over his teeth.
“Are we done now?” Harry barks.
“Not quite.”
Harry groans. “What now ?”
“It’s just…” and his hesitation seems calculated, that much Harry can read, “every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how fucking beautiful you are.”
Harry’s breath catches in his throat.
He can’t breathe, and he feels his cheeks heating up, bright red in the magical strobe light.
Riddle smiles charmingly at him before toasting him with his Firewhiskey. He melts into the shadows, having the last word again, leaving to go do Merlin knows what, leaving Harry at the bar.
Harry grabs at the bar to keep himself steady.
“You okay there, mate?” Ginny’s voice slithers into his ear. “A little weak-kneed?”
Harry turns to glare at her. “Oh, shut it,” he snarls before stomping off.
He’s not fucking weak-kneed. He’s fucking enraged.
(He's lying. Or half-lying. After all, Harry never lies.)
"What would I be without my friends
(What would I be without my friends)
I ain't got no understanding
(I ain't got no understanding)
'Bout them, you might catch these hands
We fall out and we make amends, yeah, yeah"
Ginny is practically sweating as she finally pulls away from the dance floor. Dean was exchanging looks with a Slytherin girl, and Ginny has no interest in cockblocking him from that. She thinks she should be jealous, but really, she’s only pleased. Dean deserves happiness. She’d never begrudge him of that even if he wasn’t great for her.
Ginny spots Harry and raises her hand, preparing to call for him, and then stops, when he suddenly looks up and Ginny notices who’s standing next to him.
Riddle really is incredibly tall. He’s taller than Harry by about a head. They’d look good together if Riddle wasn’t such a pompous asshole.
Ginny creeps closer to see if Harry needs any back up.
And then, she hears Riddle say: “It’s just…every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how fucking beautiful you are.”
She grins as she watches Harry’s scowl drop.
His lips part and she can practically hear the sharp inhale. Riddle’s smirk goes from serpentine to wolfish; he knows he’s got him. He toasts Harry with his Firewhiskey and disappears back into the crowd, leaving Harry to grip at the bar like he isn’t ready to just drop his trousers for Tom fucking Riddle.
“You okay there, mate?” she teases. “A little weak-kneed.”
Harry gathers his wits, and glares at her. “Oh, shut it,” he barks before he storms off into the opposite direction of Riddle, probably to find Ron and Hermione and to rant at them about what’s just happened.
Or maybe not. Harry’s been surprisingly quiet about the whole Riddle thing.
But, it’s none of Ginny’s business anyway.
She turns her attention back to the bar and exchanges grins.
“Well, hello there, barkeep,” Ginny greets. “Did you find that just as entertaining as I did?”
“Oh, I did,” Zabini grins. “Riddle wants Potter?”
“Desperately, it seems,” Ginny snorts. She rolls her eyes. “Riddle’s in for a world of disappointment then.”
“Bet you’re wrong,” Zabini says.
Ginny laugh. “Bet you I’m right.”
“Hmm stakes?” Zabini asks.
Ginny rolls her eyes again. “I don’t know. You tell me, stalker.”
Zabini leans over the bar as he finishes mixing up whatever was in his cauldron. Ginny looks down into the plastic goblet and sees that it’s unicorn blood. She takes it, toasts him, and takes a long sip. It’s nowhere as good as Turpin’s, but there’s something uniquely different. She thinks it’s because Zabini made it for her.
“A date. You and me,” Zabini says.
Ginny raises an eyebrow as she looks at him. She glances back over her shoulder. She catches a glimpse of Dean, wrapped around some seventh year Slytherin girl. He catches her eye and almost falters, but Ginny just as grins at him and offers a wink. Dean grins back and plunders the girl’s mouth again. Ginny looks back at Zabini, but he looks vaguely unimpressed.
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” Ginny declares.
Zabini laughs. “And I’m not looking for a girlfriend,” he retorts. Ginny raises an eyebrow. “So…will you go on a date with me?”
Ginny stares at Zabini for a long time. He’s going to keep her on her toes.
Her fascination with him grew out of lust, but she thinks she could actually grow to like him. He’s witty and smart-mouthed and kind. He’d cared when she was sad, and hated Dean when he saw that Dean was the reason. Zabini didn’t give a damn about Quidditch, but knew enough to know that she was good.
And yet.
“Raincheck?” she asks.
She waits for Zabini’s vitriol, cruelty off his tongue.
Zabini just smiles. “I think you’d be worth standing in the rain.”
Ginny’s cheeks burn red, and she grins up at him, toasting him with her drink. He salutes her, swinging his wand at his brow. Ginny laughs and turns around, her eyes searching the sea of Slytherins. Her gaze passes right over Draco Malfoy where Parkinson is tucked under his arm. He sneers at her, but Ginny looks right past him at her friends.
Harry’s hand is tight around the neck of his butterbeer, but he seems to be smiling uncertainly as Lavender waves her hands dramatically at him. Hermione and Luna are twisting to the music, swaying from side to side, and Ron towers over them all. He catches sight of her first.
Ginny runs to them.
As she joins them, she jumps up and practically tackles Ron. Ron stumbles under her weight.
“Ugh, Ginny! ” Ron groans as he spills a butterbeer all over his hand. He raises his hand to lick off some of the residue, but a disgusted look from Lavender seems to quell his more childish nature.
“You got a drink ?” Lavender asks, envious.
Ginny offers it to share and Lavender takes a grateful sip. “Yeah, Zabini is manning the bar.”
“Ooooh,” Luna coos, giggling. “Are you going to date now?”
Ginny shrugs. “Maybe. Not right now, though. Why bother?” she asks.
“What do you mean ‘why bother’?” Ron demands. “Didn’t you go through this whole thing with Dean because of him?”
Hermione scoffs, shaking her head. “She doesn’t need a man if she doesn’t want one. And another boy doesn’t need to be the reason she breaks up with someone. Ginny is complete and whole and amazing all on her own.”
Ginny grins at her and loops her arm through Hermione’s. “Hermione is, as always, correct !” she cheers.
Hermione laughs, and Lavender grins along until she jerks and stands up, straighter, eyes trained on something coming their way. Harry seems to shift out of his sullenness, panic spreading on his face as Riddle cuts through the crowd like a wraith. He approaches them with a glint in his eye, and Ginny raises an eyebrow.
Riddle looks at all of them and nods.
“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” Riddle says, looking each of them in the eye. Hermione looks surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Riddle’s gaze catches on Harry for just a beat longer before he turns to Lavender. “Hello.”
Lavender swallows. “H-hello,” she stammers.
“Lavender Brown, Gryffindor,” Riddle announces, staring Lavender in the eye. He takes her hand in both of his, and somehow, despite his staggering height, looks at her from beneath the fringe of his eyelashes. Voice dripping with sincerity, he says, “I apologize for the way I treated you. It was...unbecoming.”
Lavender’s jaw practically drops as she stares up at Riddle, starry-eyed and sweet.
“O-okay…” she stammers, looking around as if she can’t tell if this is reality or not. She looks down at where Riddle is still holding her hand, and her cheeks burn bright even in the low lighting.
“I hope that you won’t hold it against me,” Riddle says, and when he finally drops her hand, Lavender’s hovers in the air until she snatches it back against her chest and flushes even brighter, practically squirming.
Riddle smiles winningly down at her, side steps her. Almost immediately, Luna and Hermione are at Lavender’s sides, whispering in her ear, as Lavender starts to vibrate, like she’s holding in a shriek of joy in her chest. Ron looks angry. But, it’s Harry that Ginny keeps her eye on as Riddle passes by.
Ginny’s eyes widen as Riddle winks at Harry. Harry sneers back, and then turns to meet her eyes. He dares her to say something.
Ginny doesn’t.
She’s barely got time for her own drama, let alone someone else’s.
So, instead of saying anything, she grabs her brother’s hand, and she grabs Luna’s. Luna takes Lavender’s hand. Ron takes Harry’s. Harry takes Hermione’s. Ginny grabs the link of them out where the music is loudest.
Ginny jumps, and laughs, and dances, and wonders, What would she be without her friends?