A familiar place, a familiar posture.
Ginny found herself suspended again by a restraint charm. Because of what she was wearing, the embarrassment today felt worse than before. The pressure at her thighs made her skin prickle.
Comfortable...
No, not that!
"Put me down!" Ginny flailed, both shy and angry. "I stood up for you today and you still bully me! Riddle, you are heartless!"
Tom watched her fuss and, despite the scolding, sensed something off.
She was scolding him, yes... but that expression looked suspiciously like she was enjoying the game.
"I thought after several duels you would be starving," Tom said, pushing aside the doubt. He tapped the table with a finger. Steam rose. A celebratory spread filled the whole surface. He sighed on purpose. "Seems my victory feast will be for one."
"Tom! I want to eat! I am starving!"
The smell of roast chicken and smoked meat curled upward. Ginny's stomach growled on cue.
"Beg me and I will let you down," Tom said, cutting a perfect bite of steak. The juices burst on his tongue, cooked exactly right, neither too rare nor overdone.
He preferred his steak closer to medium well. At medium there was still blood. At eight-tenths done, the blood vanished and the beef stayed tender. Parra knew his taste perfectly, and always hit it just right. Pity British beef was not ideal for hotpot, or he would have set a simmering pot right there.
"Beg you? No way." Ginny turned her head. "I am the hero today. You must feed me."
Tom glanced at their arrangement, then at the angle... inventive.
"Fine. I will serve the hero," he said. With a wave, the binding lowered just enough that Ginny hovered above the table. He fed her a bite at a time, and she was not shy about it, eating everything he offered.
By the end, a third of the table had vanished into her.
"Impressive appetite," Tom muttered.
"You ate more than me!" Ginny stuck out her tongue and licked a dab of sauce from the corner of her mouth. "The rest vanished into you."
"Different matter. I am training my capacity." Tom had been testing his limits and using magic to speed digestion. Progress was good.
Once Newt delivered the panda, he would basically be a bottomless pit.
He released the charm. Constant suspension was not good for digestion. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Ginny gave a satisfied hiccup, then sidled up with pleading eyes.
"Teach me a few more spells. I nearly could not beat that silly woman."
"More, and you will be dipping into dark magic," Tom said. "Voray is not weak. She is two years older. Today's win was narrow. That gap is age and development. It is not something a couple of spells can bridge, unless you use dark magic."
"Then how did you do it?" Ginny pouted. "Astoria told me you were in school less than two months and you had already thrashed every Slytherin prefect ten times."
Tom lifted a shoulder. "Luck. Talent, plus luck beyond talent. Drink this, then follow the movement sequence on the parchment."
Curious, Ginny uncorked the vial on the table and drank. Heat rushed through her limbs.
"Move. Quickly. If the effect piles up in your body, do not blame me when you grow elephant legs and a round belly," Tom warned.
He valued attitude most. Today Ginny had it in spades. Even if she had lost to Cassandra in the end, he would not have minded. Spirit mattered more than margin. So he gave her something he normally reserved for his own.
Half an hour later she cooled down from the red hot state. She could not say precisely what had changed, but she felt alert, no longer drowsy. It was like waking from a perfect nap.
Tom's explanation finally sank in, and she realised how precious the draught was. It shortened the gap time itself imposed and refined the body's baseline. To an ordinary person, that meant becoming a better ordinary person. To a talent, the boost was much larger.
"Tom, you are so good to me," Ginny murmured, eyes shining. "Recognise me as your girlfriend, then."
"Trying to climb the ladder?" He pinched her cheek. "Be a good little maid."
"Tch."
She did not bother to pretend otherwise.
"Since you got the benefit, help me with one more thing." Tom unfolded the Marauder's Map. "Check your brother's dorm."
"Which brother?" Ginny blinked.
"Ron."
"Oh."
Following the tip of his wand, Ginny searched the map. Soon she noticed the oddity. Ron's name was almost perfectly overlapped with another. She squinted, sounding out the crammed letters. "Peter... Pettigrew, wait, that is Scabbers, right? Peter Pettigrew? What a strange name..."
Mid sentence she fell silent.
The name was clearly male. Ginny knew exactly how precise the map was about position, having used it for a while herself.
Her imagination instantly conjured several very wrong scenarios.
Her face went pale and she toppled into Tom's arms, repulsed by her own mental picture.
"What did you think of?" Tom asked softly.
"What else could I think? Respecting differences," Ginny grumbled. "I never thought Ron would... well, if anyone, I would have guessed Harry. Good thing we have plenty of Weasley boys. No need to worry about the family line. If it were Malfoy, their sky would fall."