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Split-Half Reliability: Ch 2 [HP]
Title: Split-Half Reliability
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Ginny & Tom, Harry/Ginny, Tomarry
Rating: M
Chapter Word Count: 1,064
Chapter Count: 2 / 7 | Chapter 1
Summary: Prequel to Liminality. Ginny navigates life after her humiliating first year in Hogwarts. Along the way, she discovers that she’s much less alone than she thought she was, and she has to learn how to make peace with the teenaged, wannabe Dark Lord who's taken up a permanent residence in her head. -or- When Tom’s diary is destroyed, he’s already almost completely left it. With no place else to go, Tom Marvolo Riddle is thrown back into the only other container he has a link to: Ginny Weasley.
Notes: This thing.
---
Fury licks its way through Ginny’s entire body. She does her best not to hurl it at Neville—he’s so sweet, and she was so pleased at the time that he’d asked her.
But to think that she could have gone to the Ball with Harry. Lovely Harry, with his hair flopping around his face in the front and sticking up in the back. Harry, with his eyes so bright and startling against his skin. She imagines what it would have felt like to have his hands on her as they twirl through the elaborately decorated hall. He would be smiling at her. Those green eyes would be finally focussed on her alone. She’d lift a hand and press it to the side of his face. She’d let her thumb stroke along his cheekbone as she tugged him toward her, tilting his face up—down—up—down—fine, over, and then, and then—
Ginny grabs a book and hurls it at the wall.
Stupid Ron. Couldn’t he have had his epiphany weeks ago? If only any of her other brothers were Harry’s best friend and confidant, Ginny’s certain they would have already dropped the idea into Harry’s head.
You need a date? Why not Ginny? You know her, you’re comfortable enough with her. You could go as friends!
She could have worked with that.
She had assumed that Ron had already mentioned it, and that Harry had simply refused because it would be uncomfortable to go on a date with his best friend’s younger sister, even as friends. But no, Ron hadn’t even tried!
Stupid, stupid Ron.
Ginny is never speaking to him again.
---
“Anyway,” Ginny overhears Parvati telling Lavender and Padma in the Gryffindor common room. “I don’t see why Mum is complaining. Dad is Indian.” Parvati pouts.
“And wasn’t Harry raised all English?” asks Padma. “I doubt he even knows what’s going on between magical Bangladesh and magical India right now.”
“I’m not sure Harry knows what’s going on with anything,” says Lavender in a shocking fit of hypocrisy. She’s still bitter that Parvati and Padma are the dates of Harry and Ron, then.
Ginny wants to be irritated at Lavender, but the truth is, it’s a fairly accurate description of Harry. Harry is always very focussed. He never notices what’s happening around him unless it’s the precise thing he’s attending to. And he never attends to the social climate around him unless it’s to note that, once again, everyone hates him for something beyond his control.
Ginny’s heart aches for him. She’ll find out how his name came to be drawn from that worthless goblet, and whoever is responsible will know pain.
“That’s so true,” says Parvati.
Padma raises her eyebrows. “Not that anyone else in this school knows, either. I’m not sure that our classmates have even heard of Northeast India, never mind know anything about the land dispute happening between two foreign magical governments.”
“Anyway,” says Parvati meaningfully. “It’s completely unfair of Mum to be saying that our Bangladeshi family will be upset when she married an Indian, too. And he’s Harry Potter!”
Ginny rolls her eyes.
“What are his dress robes like?” asks Lavender eagerly. “What are Ron’s like?”
“Green,” says Ginny. The older girls jump as though they’ve only just noticed her lounging with a book on the couch next over. “And hideous.”
Parvati sniffs. “They’d better not be.” The girls pointedly turn away from Ginny and begin discussing their own dress robes in nauseating detail.
Ginny flips her book shut and stands up to leave. She tucks her hands into her robe pockets so that no one will see that they’re shaking in anger.
To think that Harry is going to the ball with that brainless idiot who doesn’t like him for anything more than his fame when he could be going with her! Ginny would make him feel as wonderful and as special as he deserves. Ginny would—
She stomps into her dorm and collapses into her four poster, seething.
Stupid Ron.
---
As it turns out, perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise that she doesn’t go to the Yule Ball with Harry. She peaks over Neville’s shoulder, wincing as he steps on her foot yet again, and spots Harry, hiding out by the fountain with Ron while Parvati glowers at him.
Parvati and Harry had looked so perfect together, too, when they’d first entered. Ginny had felt her heart shatter as she watched them twirling together.
And now…
Ginny looks back at Neville with a smile. Clearly Harry simply isn’t mature enough for a girlfriend—boyfriend—girlfriend yet. Fine. Ginny’s perfectly capable of waiting.
---
Ron tells her everything over summer holiday.
It was You Know Who. Of course it was.
He arranged it all: he had Harry’s name put in the goblet, he had Harry kidnapped, he stole Harry’s blood.
Ginny wants to wreak him for touching what’s hers.
And—snake-faced? Ginny’s stomach turns over in disgust. You Know Who isn’t supposed to be snake-faced. That’s just a rumour, just a lie that the fools of this post-war world told themselves as a means of comfort. Of course the enemy looks like a monster.
No, You Know Who is supposed to be handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes and a charming smile, eternally young due to his ingenious preservation of his soul.
Ginny thinks that something must have gone terribly wrong.
---
Grimmauld Place seems uncomfortably familiar.
Ginny doesn’t like Sirius Black. He’s wild, unstable, and occasionally a little frightening in his intensity. She avoids him whenever she can, which is often, because Sirius Black spends just as much time trying to avoid everyone else.
The portrait of Walburga Black begins shrieking again, and Ginny shivers. She wants to go home, not spend all day cleaning this miserable, destroyed old house.
It was once one of the greatest wizarding abodes in London. All of the great families fought for the honour of being invited to these hallowed halls.
Be that as may be, it’s nothing great now.
The portrait quiets, and Ginny tiptoes past it, hoping not to set it off again.
She was so beautiful, so refined. The grace of any party.
A wistfulness washes over Ginny.
Well, old Walburga is the shame of this party, she thinks to herself firmly.
Yes. How the mighty fall.
How the mighty fall.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/Characters: Ginny & Tom, Harry/Ginny, Tomarry
Rating: M
Chapter Word Count: 1,064
Chapter Count: 2 / 7 | Chapter 1
Summary: Prequel to Liminality. Ginny navigates life after her humiliating first year in Hogwarts. Along the way, she discovers that she’s much less alone than she thought she was, and she has to learn how to make peace with the teenaged, wannabe Dark Lord who's taken up a permanent residence in her head. -or- When Tom’s diary is destroyed, he’s already almost completely left it. With no place else to go, Tom Marvolo Riddle is thrown back into the only other container he has a link to: Ginny Weasley.
Notes: This thing.
Fury licks its way through Ginny’s entire body. She does her best not to hurl it at Neville—he’s so sweet, and she was so pleased at the time that he’d asked her.
But to think that she could have gone to the Ball with Harry. Lovely Harry, with his hair flopping around his face in the front and sticking up in the back. Harry, with his eyes so bright and startling against his skin. She imagines what it would have felt like to have his hands on her as they twirl through the elaborately decorated hall. He would be smiling at her. Those green eyes would be finally focussed on her alone. She’d lift a hand and press it to the side of his face. She’d let her thumb stroke along his cheekbone as she tugged him toward her, tilting his face up—down—up—down—fine, over, and then, and then—
Ginny grabs a book and hurls it at the wall.
Stupid Ron. Couldn’t he have had his epiphany weeks ago? If only any of her other brothers were Harry’s best friend and confidant, Ginny’s certain they would have already dropped the idea into Harry’s head.
You need a date? Why not Ginny? You know her, you’re comfortable enough with her. You could go as friends!
She could have worked with that.
She had assumed that Ron had already mentioned it, and that Harry had simply refused because it would be uncomfortable to go on a date with his best friend’s younger sister, even as friends. But no, Ron hadn’t even tried!
Stupid, stupid Ron.
Ginny is never speaking to him again.
“Anyway,” Ginny overhears Parvati telling Lavender and Padma in the Gryffindor common room. “I don’t see why Mum is complaining. Dad is Indian.” Parvati pouts.
“And wasn’t Harry raised all English?” asks Padma. “I doubt he even knows what’s going on between magical Bangladesh and magical India right now.”
“I’m not sure Harry knows what’s going on with anything,” says Lavender in a shocking fit of hypocrisy. She’s still bitter that Parvati and Padma are the dates of Harry and Ron, then.
Ginny wants to be irritated at Lavender, but the truth is, it’s a fairly accurate description of Harry. Harry is always very focussed. He never notices what’s happening around him unless it’s the precise thing he’s attending to. And he never attends to the social climate around him unless it’s to note that, once again, everyone hates him for something beyond his control.
Ginny’s heart aches for him. She’ll find out how his name came to be drawn from that worthless goblet, and whoever is responsible will know pain.
“That’s so true,” says Parvati.
Padma raises her eyebrows. “Not that anyone else in this school knows, either. I’m not sure that our classmates have even heard of Northeast India, never mind know anything about the land dispute happening between two foreign magical governments.”
“Anyway,” says Parvati meaningfully. “It’s completely unfair of Mum to be saying that our Bangladeshi family will be upset when she married an Indian, too. And he’s Harry Potter!”
Ginny rolls her eyes.
“What are his dress robes like?” asks Lavender eagerly. “What are Ron’s like?”
“Green,” says Ginny. The older girls jump as though they’ve only just noticed her lounging with a book on the couch next over. “And hideous.”
Parvati sniffs. “They’d better not be.” The girls pointedly turn away from Ginny and begin discussing their own dress robes in nauseating detail.
Ginny flips her book shut and stands up to leave. She tucks her hands into her robe pockets so that no one will see that they’re shaking in anger.
To think that Harry is going to the ball with that brainless idiot who doesn’t like him for anything more than his fame when he could be going with her! Ginny would make him feel as wonderful and as special as he deserves. Ginny would—
She stomps into her dorm and collapses into her four poster, seething.
Stupid Ron.
As it turns out, perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise that she doesn’t go to the Yule Ball with Harry. She peaks over Neville’s shoulder, wincing as he steps on her foot yet again, and spots Harry, hiding out by the fountain with Ron while Parvati glowers at him.
Parvati and Harry had looked so perfect together, too, when they’d first entered. Ginny had felt her heart shatter as she watched them twirling together.
And now…
Ginny looks back at Neville with a smile. Clearly Harry simply isn’t mature enough for a girlfriend—boyfriend—girlfriend yet. Fine. Ginny’s perfectly capable of waiting.
Ron tells her everything over summer holiday.
It was You Know Who. Of course it was.
He arranged it all: he had Harry’s name put in the goblet, he had Harry kidnapped, he stole Harry’s blood.
Ginny wants to wreak him for touching what’s hers.
And—snake-faced? Ginny’s stomach turns over in disgust. You Know Who isn’t supposed to be snake-faced. That’s just a rumour, just a lie that the fools of this post-war world told themselves as a means of comfort. Of course the enemy looks like a monster.
No, You Know Who is supposed to be handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes and a charming smile, eternally young due to his ingenious preservation of his soul.
Ginny thinks that something must have gone terribly wrong.
Grimmauld Place seems uncomfortably familiar.
Ginny doesn’t like Sirius Black. He’s wild, unstable, and occasionally a little frightening in his intensity. She avoids him whenever she can, which is often, because Sirius Black spends just as much time trying to avoid everyone else.
The portrait of Walburga Black begins shrieking again, and Ginny shivers. She wants to go home, not spend all day cleaning this miserable, destroyed old house.
It was once one of the greatest wizarding abodes in London. All of the great families fought for the honour of being invited to these hallowed halls.
Be that as may be, it’s nothing great now.
The portrait quiets, and Ginny tiptoes past it, hoping not to set it off again.
She was so beautiful, so refined. The grace of any party.
A wistfulness washes over Ginny.
Well, old Walburga is the shame of this party, she thinks to herself firmly.
Yes. How the mighty fall.
How the mighty fall.