A/N: Thanks for the reviews! There's more Tom in this chappie. Nice and fluffy. Fairly amusing at some points. Well, I thought so. Anyway. Enjoy it. Or not. Whichever
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Thirty-Six: P is for Preparing Speeches
Ginny stared at the empty, perfectly made-up bed. What on earth? If Riddle was gone, then why had the voice brought her here? "Why's he gone to St. Mungoes'?" asked Ginny abruptly. "I mean – he said that he was going to be fine when I spoke to him. He's… he's not that sick, is he?"
Madam Royce raised a grey eyebrow. "Miss Peregrine, he was bleeding copiously and cursed," she pointed out. Ginny looked worriedly at her feet. She hoped he'd be okay…
xxx
She scanned the chart of the wards. She couldn't see which one he could possibly be in. She hoped she'd be let in. Regardless of her worries about this, Ginny continued forwards as the queue moved on.
"Hello, St. Mungoes reception, my name is Kiana Port. How may I help you?" drawled a bored, middle-aged woman who, Ginny thought, looked as though there was nothing she would like less than to help her.
"Um. Hi. My name's Ginevra Peregrine, I'm looking for a Mr. T. M. Riddle," said Ginny, fiddling with her wand nervously in her coat pocket.
Kiana Port looked through a huge list of papers. "We do indeed have a Mr. T. M. Riddle staying here," she said boredly after a moment of scanning the miniscule text.
Ginny smiled with relief. "Okay, thank you. What ward is he in?" she asked.
"And, Miss Peregrine, what relation are you to Mr. Riddle?" inquired Port unenthusiastically.
"Oh. Er. I'm a friend." Ginny frowned – what did this have to do with anything?
"Well, Miss Peregrine, his ward is confidential information, I'm afraid."
"What?"
"I'm sorry," said Port, who didn't sound sorry at all. "He is in a very secure area, and only immediate family are allowed in."
Furious, Ginny considering shouting, 'he doesn't have any family! I'm probably the only person he's got!', but, for a plan she was rapidly hatching, that would be a bad idea.
"I apologize for wasting your time," Ginny said angrily, and stalked out of the hospital.
xxx
"'ello, I am 'ere to see Monsieur T. Riddle," said the pretty blonde woman, tossing sheets of silvery blonde hair out of her face. "I believe 'e is 'ere, non?"
"Yes, he is. May I ask what relation you are to him?" drawled Kiana Port, scratching something down on parchment. Probably doodles.
The blonde woman – obviously French – giggled. "'e is my fiancé," she declared happily, thrusting a hand forwards and, wiggling her fingers, displaying what looked to be an extremely expensive engagement ring. Then a look of concern crossed her beautiful features. "But, pleez," she added severely, "eef my muzzer or fazzer come – do not tell zem. It eez to be a surprise."
"Yeah, yeah," said Port dismissively. "I need to take your name."
"Ah, oui. Félicie Tatienne. What ward eez Tom een?" the woman inquired, leaning anxiously over the counter. "I 'ope 'e eez feeling well now. I don't want 'im to be, eh, le grumpy!" she giggled again.
Port didn't look impressed with this giddy behaviour. "Sixth floor. Babatunde Ward." She banged a small hammer. "Next!"
"Merci! Á bien tôt!" the woman chirped. She gave a cute wave and then flounced away, her blue poodle-skirt swirling a good inch above her knees, high-heels clacking noisily, blonde hair billowing behind her like a cape. She attracted the eyes of many males before she entered a nearby lift.
On the ground floor, in stepped Félicie Tatienne, French beauty.
And on the sixth floor, out stepped Ginevra Peregrine – a brilliant actress.
"Hello," she said to the sixth-floor receptionist who was eyeing her suspiciously. "Félicie Tatienne. Miss Kiana Port should have informed you that I was coming up. I'm here to see Tom Riddle."
The receptionist didn't look satisfied by this. She rifled through papers, held one up… "Hm. Yes, I suppose. I'll have a nurse take you through," she said, still looking warily at the redhead, as though she might run at any moment.
How many people do I have to go through? Will there be a security check as well?
A friendly-looking, rather overweight man came down the corridor. "Hello," he said cheerily. "Welcome to the Babatunde Ward of Extreme Cursing. This way, please."
As they made their way through the ward, Ginny looked through a few windows, and was horrified to see the state of some of people in there. There was a woman who was basically just a puddle of blood with a gaunt, grey face. There was a man having convulsions that shook the whole bed. There was a very small girl whose eyes had turned scarlet, who Ginny saw try to attack a nurse.
Ginny paled. Was Riddle that sick?
The male nurse saw her face and hastily comforted her. "Don't worry about that," he said. "Those are the more severe patients; the permanent patients. The further down the corridor, the less severe the patient's problem is. You'll be glad to hear that Riddle is in the second room from the end. And… here we are."
Suddenly feeling very worried, Ginny tried to peer through the glass. She couldn't see him.
"Mr. Riddle, are you awake?" asked the man cheerfully, entering the room. "Your fiancée is here!"
Ginny smacked her forehead. Stupid! Stupid! No! Feeling warmth flood her face, she looked up through the window. Someone had stirred, and she could now identify which one was Riddle – the one frowning in bewilderment.
"I don't have a-" she heard him start to say. Then he turned to the window and saw her.
She smiled nervously and waved. She glanced to the nurse to check that she could come in ("Go ahead", said the friendly man, and left) and then entered the room shyly. "Hey, Riddle," she said brightly.
"Funny," said Riddle, raising an eyebrow slightly. "I don't recall asking you to marry me."
"Don't worry, it was a long time ago," teased Ginny. She rolled her eyes. "It was the only way they'd let me in." She grinned. "Look, I've even got the ring!"
"Lovely," Riddle said quietly, before closing his eyes with an almost inaudible sigh.
Again, the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing what to do or say. "Um. How are you?" she tried, sitting on a stool nearby.
"How do I look?" Riddle muttered.
"Um. You look…" Ginny flickered her gaze over him. His hair was even more of a messy cloud than it had been the last time she saw him, his eyes were rimmed with tired black, and soft dark stubble on his rectangular jaw created an ill-looking contrast with his near-translucently pale skin. "…good!"
Riddle cracked open his eyes and raised an eyebrow in an are you insane look.
"Honestly?" Ginny said, cringing. "You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards."
Now the corners of Riddle's lips twisted into a half-smirk, his face practically speaking the words 'I thought as much, thank you for your opinion' in his quiet, well-pronounced voice.
Ginny observed him. He looked like a shadow of the Head Boy, of the Riddle, that she knew. It was inconvenient – you know, what with having to murder him and all – she pushed this to the back of her mind – but she felt an almost agonizing pang of worry for the dark seventeen-year-old. "Riddle…" she said slowly.
"Mm?" Riddle mumbled.
She mentally prepared the speech she was going to say, and then came out with it. "Riddle, a while ago – two days, maybe three – a friend of mine was really sick," she began, hoping he'd see where she was getting. "And… and I asked him, 'are you okay' and he said 'no'. Then, I said 'will you be okay'. And he said 'yes'."
She paused. Riddle's eyes were open now; fixed on her, trying to understand what point she was trying to make.
Biting her lip, she leaned forwards, resting her elbows, together, on the mattress, and rested her chin in between them. "Did you mean that?" she asked softly.
Something flickered in his dark eyes. "Yes."
Ginny gave a little laugh. "Did you mean that?" she asked, her tone teasing, but still serious all the same.
He looked away. Riddle took a deep breath, and then lifted his eyes back to hers, and said quietly, "Yes." The smallest of smiles curved his lips, and there it was. It was like the sun coming out after a year of non-stop rain. It was the first time that Ginny had ever seen him smile – really and truly smile. It lit up his face like a small boy at Easter, getting chocolates and hugs and little toys inside wicker baskets.
And, then – just like the sun, after a year of rain – it was gone.
Her heart lifted, and feeling strangely cheery – wanting to have another glimpse of the sun, Ginny asked, "When do you think you'll be coming back?" she pouted. "I have no-one to shout at."
Dry amusement glittered in Riddle's dark eyes. "Won't Reeve do?" he asked.
"Alas, no," said Ginny. "If I shout at him, I'll end getting really pissed off, and I'd probably rip off his-" She stopped mid-sentence, remembering who she was talking to. "Eh." She racked her brain. "His… well. It'll be painful. And the Reeve family line will come to an abrupt and ungainly end," she finished.
Riddle's left eye twitched slightly in what was undoubtedly a wince. This, more than her unwieldy sentence, made Ginny laugh. She told him about the funeral, and about her less-than-politically-correct speech. She told him about her plans for the Yule Ball. And he listened – smirking in the right places, injecting a sarcastic comment here or there. Yet, unlike with other people, this didn't seem to ruin the story. It was just… unexplainable.
Then, suddenly, Ginny realised that her two hours were up, and that she had to leave. The male nurse was hovering outside, so that he could take her away.
"I have to go," she said awkwardly. "Sorry." Her quick, uncomfortable 'sorry' reminded her of the long apology she had planned about what had happened at Hogsmeade. She had totally forgotten to say it, and she didn't think that she had time now.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Ginny swallowed hard. "Um. I'll see you later, I s'pose," she said, biting her lip for what seemed the thousandth time since she arrived at St. Mungoes.
Riddle nodded. "Goodbye," he said quietly, formal as ever.
"Get better soon," Ginny said, standing up. She looked down at Riddle, lying on the hospital bed, and stifled a laugh. "Oh, and Riddle? Shave."
The ill Head Boy looked up at her, a bewildered frown creasing his brows.
"Sorry!" she giggled. "It's just… you look like a beaver."
Riddle raised his eyebrows in an I-see gesture, and then said tiredly, "Peregrine, I think that you're probably the only person I've ever met who would compare me to a beaver."
"Aw. You know you love me," Ginny teased. "Alright, Sleeping Beauty, I really do have to go before the nurse calls security to take me out by force."
"That would make my day," mumbled Riddle. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was ready to fall asleep at any moment.
Ginny watched him for a moment, and then turned away. She was about to walk towards the door when she heard him speak again:
"…I heard what Fionn said."
Much to the dismay of the male nurse outside, Ginny swivelled back to face him. "What?"
"…in the Hospital Wing. Before she left…"
Frowning, Ginny ran over Eleanor's words a few days previously.
"Ginny, I doubt there's a single person in all of Hogwarts – except perhaps him – who didn't see you scream, run through blood, mangled bodies, and – no less – a cursed barrier to get to him. If that's not caring for him, then what the hell is?"
In the space of approximately half a second, faster than the eye could follow, every blood cell in Ginny's body surged into her cheeks. She could see herself in the polished floor, and was even afraid that she might explode.
"Oh. Um. Well." She tried to keep her voice from a stammer. 'Tried' being the operative word.
She felt extremely embarrassed at having been caught discussing how Riddle had no friends. There was never a moment where she had more wanted to turn into a slug and eat herself.
"…Thank you," Riddle murmured, his words so soft that Ginny had to strain to hear them, and then his breathing slowed, and the redhead knew that he was truly asleep.
Face still glowing like the setting sun, Ginny turned and left the room. She spared a backwards glance through the window, and then departed the hospital, feeling as though she might implode from blushing so much… but also oddly pleased.
xxx
A/N: Aw. How cute. –huggles Ginny and Tom- Meh! Please review. Thanks to my beta SilvanXan.
audrhole: Um. A few things that you may have forgotten from earlier chapters. A: Ginny is a Parselmouth in this fic, and B: the Basilisk dies in Harry's second-year… which is currently forty-two years into the future. So the Basilisk is still alive. Thanks, though!
The-Quoi: Eek! –hides- Haha, lol, your ideas of what Slughorn should do made me laugh… hehe.
Faye8222: Since you sign off your reviews as Kallie, can I call you that next time? Because typing your pen-name is exhausting mentally. Well, not really. But yeah. Lol. Thank you!
Annabel-lurvs-purple: I love purple too. Hehe. Thanks! Um, because then you wouldn't have as much time to think about the chapters, and you might skip bits or not understand properly.
crazedreader: Oops. DAMN YOUR CLEVERNESS!
creative-writing-girl13: Aw, we all have that little part of us that cheers for psychopaths.
chimis: YEAH! Woo, sixty!
kyraThePoop: Haha, lol. Sleep tight!
storm-brain: Hahaha. Revolt Of The House-Elves. I like it. It has a catchy ring to it. I'll try it.
ShhImNotMVP: Thank you!
X-XsiobhanX-X: -gasp- That's HORRIBLE! I don't like you anymore. –pout- Don't worry, he'll be fine.
Saene: Lmao, that made me laugh. I like your ranting, I look forwards to more in your next review.
DeadlyCreative: Ah, the senile dementia is setting in, I suppose. Thank you!
BDSanta2001: Haha, yeah. I didn't actually think about that. Hm.
XxRandomHeartxX: Ooh, I HATE when that happens. Thank you! Well… um… how long? I'd say… about eighty chapters. –cringe- It's very long.
00jade: Everyone can answer you, silly. They just don't want to. Yeah, I named the Basilisk as well. But I named him Mascie. Teehee.
Eternal Passion: Thank you!
Exhexohex: Ooh, thank you so much!
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