Rewind Chapter 9: P is for Pointless Wishes, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: Some TMR-GAP action. A lot of angst.

ATTENTION: This is ANGST coming up here. Lots and lots of it. This is a very serious chapter, so be warned.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wish it was.

The Letter P

Chapter Nine: P is for Pointless Wishes

… No-one understands. Is this such a pureblood school that no-one has heard of Cinderella? I don't believe it – none of them get it.

However, that was not entirely true. Ginny looked over and was surprised to see that Riddle's lips were quirked slightly upwards in a small smirk of dry amusement. But… why did he understand? He was a pureblood above all others – what did he know of Muggle fairytales?

Pushing the unimportant matters to the back of her mind, Ginny said, "Never mind," to the still-staring Prefects and Head Girl, and the meeting continued, leaving only a vague notion that Ginny was not as sure about Riddle as she thought.

…

The dreams continued.

George. Snape cursed his ear off. Then his nose. Then, suddenly, horrifically, half of his face was gone. It was as if God had decided, 'no, I don't think his face came out quite right, hang on, give it back'. Except, what kind of God would do this? And Ginny was screaming, screaming, screaming –

"Hermione? Mione, did you hear the news? Harry got a-" the words were never finished because Ginny ran into her best friend's room and came to see the bushy-haired Muggleborn on her bedroom floor, red and sticky and somehow a lot smaller than Ginny ever remembered, because her arms were in the corner, and her legs were mutilated, and her head was GONE and her best friend was in pieces, and she was screaming, screaming, screaming –

"GINNY!"

Slap.

Hazel eyes wide open, panting, sweating, tears streaked on her face. She stared down at her sodden sheets for a moment before looking up into Grace's worried face.

At first she did not recognize the fellow Slytherin's features. All that she took in were the concerned eyes and the bushy brown hair. "Mione!" she gasped, tears springing to her eyes.

"What?" frowned Grace. "What's a 'my-nee'? I'm Grace. Graaaace."

Of course. No. Not Mione. Mione… gone. Gone forever. The bushy hair was bedhead, and the concerned eyes was the look of any worried girl. It didn't necessarily have to be that of Hermione Granger.

"I think you need to talk to Madam Royce," the brunette said.

"I'm fine," Ginny muttered.

"No, you're not," replied Flora.

"I'm fine!" the redhead shouted angrily.

"Ginny, listen to reason!" said Grace hotly. "You hardly ever sleep. I knew that you always slept late, so I stayed up one night; I was curious about why it was that whenever I woke up in the night, you were up. I was hell tired, but you know what I found it? At four – in the morning – you finally fell asleep. And at five minutes past four, you started screaming."

Having no response, Ginny fell into silence and stared down at her sheets.

"You've been doing it every night since you got here," said Flora exasperatedly.

And a year before, actually.

"Either there's a reason, or you need to see Madam Royce… or you're just – just attention-seeking," said Flora.

Ginny stared, mouth slightly open, at Flora. Attention-seeker? That's what you think I am? "I am not…" she said slowly, "an attention-seeker."

"Then there's a reason," prompted Claude, eyes glittering maliciously at the thought of some juicy gossip.

"I'm fine," said Ginny, dodging the question.

"Tell me," pleaded Grace. "I can help – we can all help."

"What could you help with?" Ginny shouted. "What's done is done! What's happened has happened! It's over!" She was shaking, and her hands were curled into fists.

"What happened?" asked Grace softly.

"Nothing. That's my bet," snorted one of Claude's friends, an Indian girl named Avani who excelled in Herbology but failed just about everything else.

Grace's sapphire eyes flickered over Ginny's face, searching for something, with a look of motherly concern deep in the observant orbs gliding over the redhead's features. Then she sighed. "I'm sorry," she said to Ginny.

Clearly disappointed at the lack of gossip, Claude hissed, "attention-seeker" at Ginny, before flouncing back to her bed and pulling the covers up to her pointed chin.

Unable to meet Grace's eyes, Ginny climbed out of bed and started to dress. It was a Saturday, and she wanted to be early for breakfast so that she could snag a few of those elusive pancakes.

She selected a dark green 'swing'-skirt - a big knee-length poofy skirt that stuck out in a large flare – that she had become very fond of, and the first shirt that her hands met.

Grace cringed at the mirror before turning away, and Ginny flipped her hair back over her shoulder unbrushed. She didn't look in mirrors anymore. The days when she would pamper herself before it for hours and complain about her hair and her face endlessly were long gone. It seemed so stupid now to pace through flowers, choose the most colourful flower in the field, or the brightest stars in the sky and wish for Hermione's latte eyes, or Luna's wavy hair, or a clean complexion.

Wishes wasted. Wishes that could have been spent securing the lives of everyone I love.

Banishing such gloomy thoughts on a day of fun, Ginny waited patiently for Grace, and they headed down to the common room, where Alden was waiting, in his usual shirt and slacks.

"Why are you all dolled up?" he asked, frowning.

"We're not," grinned Grace. "Just you wait 'till Ginny's ball."

"It's not my ball," corrected Ginny for the thousandth time. "It's the Spawn of Satan's ball."

"Who?" Alden said, blinking thick eyelashes. "Riddle?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Do we know any other Spawn of Satans?" she smirked.

"Claude," Alden shrugged.

"Wouldn't that be Spawnette of Satan?" frowned Grace. Alden and Ginny exchanged glances. Grace saw this and cringed. "I just made myself sound like an idiot, didn't I?"

Suddenly Alden became very interested in his shoes, and Ginny cleared her throat, before saying hurriedly, "So, think we're early enough for pancakes today?"

…

"Turn me loose, turn me loose I say," sang Grace, skipping on every alternative step as they made their way down to Hogsmeade. "Gonna rock and roll, as long as the band's gonna play!"

"Shut up," groaned Alden. "That stupid song came out ages ago, I've had to listen to it a thousand times."

"Play a different tune," agreed Ginny.

"Fabian's hot," said Grace stubbornly. "So I shall sing him and him only," as an after-thought, she added, "and Frankie Avalon."

"Please stop it," Ginny begged. Grace had a good singing voice, but she adored the latest teen idols, Fabian and Frankie Avalon, with quite a scary stalker-like attitude.

"Fine, I'll change the subject. How about… Scott?" Grace chirped, grinning.

"No!" Ginny and Alden shouted together.

Grace pouted. "You're just jealous 'cause he fancies me," she declared.

"What?" Ginny choked, her eyes widening in her thin face.

The brunette burst into laughter, and had to lean against a tree for support. "You – you hahahha… you – hic – thought that – hic – hahahaha – hic – I was… ahahahahaha… serious – you're so – hahahahahahahaha!" she giggled.

Ginny glared. "That wasn't funny."

"It was!" she laughed. "I told you that you fancy him. You should pin him a wall somewhere and snog his face off," she advised solemnly.

Alden cleared his throat loudly. "Grace, I did not need to hear that," he told her, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Bad mental images…"

"Maybe you should ask him to the ball," said Grace. "Then you could pirouette through the Room of Requirements and dance and dance until it's past midnight and Riddle will be shouting 'cause I bet he's jealous and he secretly fancies you-"

"Yeah, and Alden's stupid."

"Oi!"

"-so he'll do whatever's in his power to pry Scott's lips away from his one true love, so you'll be broken up and all sad, then Riddle'll snog you-"

"EW! Grace!"

"-and you'll realize that he's perfect and who needs Scott anyway, so then poor Scott'll be really depressed and then suddenly I will quite coincidentally find him, and cheer him up, and we'll be like best friends-"

"And what are we, brooms?"

"-yeah, yeah, whatever, Alden, and you guys as well – and then Scott will one day realize that he's actually in love with me, and we'll snog and everything-"

"GET A ROOM!"

"Grace, shut up!"

"-and then we'll leave school and get married, and live in a biiiiig house behind a white picket fence, and we'll have like five kids and call them Natasha, James, Oliver, Rachel and maybe I'll name one Tom, after Riddle because it's thanks to him that I got together with Scott, and then me and Scott will have three cats, and maybe a dog, but no gerbils because I'm allergic to them-"

"Really? What happened?"

"ALDEN! We're supposed to be discouraging her from talking!"

"Sorry!"

"She won't stop now! Look what you've done, Philips!"

"-oh it was really bad, because I went to my cousin's house and he had two gerbils, and I thought aw cute 'cause they were, so I patted them and then I got MASSIVE warts all over me in really uncomfortable places and-"

"On three. One… two…"

"THREE!"

"-and I actually had to go to St. Mungoes' for – mmmpghff!"

Grace slammed down onto a nearby bench, pinned down by Ginny, Alden's hands welded across her mouth tightly. For a moment the brunette squirmed, and then she gave up, looking irritated at being interrupted.

I cannot believe she actually just planned out her entire life with my Scott! Well. I mean. Scott. Not mine. But. Yeah.

After making sure that Grace was well and truly silent, Alden and Ginny released her. "What's the time?" asked Ginny.

The boy burrowed in the pockets of his Oxford slacks, before coming up with a pocket-watch, and inspecting its face. "One o'clock," he replied.

Ginny paled. "Damnit! I'm late for the Spawn of Satan!" she gasped. "I'll see you guys later, I have to arrange things for the ball. Bye!" With that, she hurried away, wishing fervently that she hadn't worn these uncomfortable shoes after all as she wobbled up the road, her heels click-clacking noisily as she summoned a Threstral-drawn carriage.

As she swung into it, she wondered if Alden or Grace could see Threstrals. Probably not, she decided. Their lives are perfect. They've never had to see death. They've most likely never even felt true pain. Sighing and staring out of the side-window, Ginny watched the landscape slide by. She had a vague awareness of seeing a tall brunette chasing after the carriage, and a short dark-haired chasing after the brunette. She smiled.

…

When Ginny entered the Head dormitory, Riddle did not look up. However, still looking at his work, he commented, "There's a word on the tip of my tongue right now. It starts with 'L' and ends in 'ate'."

"Levitate?" asked Ginny coolly, sitting down opposite him.

Only then did his eyes flit up to her. "Not quite," he replied, metal-mouthed, and held her gaze for less than a second before returning to his paperwork. "I've written a basic summary of what will be needed at the ball. Meaning food, drinks, music, catering, teachers; everything that I require. You need one for the disco. It is to be handed in to Professor Dippet tomorrow morning, but, perhaps, for once, you could hand it in early. Just to break habit."

"I'll break my habit when you break yours."

"I happen to enjoy being a… what was it? An 'obnoxious up-myself arsehole ninety-nine percent of the time', I believe it was," Riddle replied, and again a smirk twisted the corners of his lips.

"Word for word? My, my, Riddle, you are a talented little boy, aren't you?" said Ginny absently, pulling a piece of parchment towards and started to scrawl across it in her messy cursive.

"I hardly think you're anyone to speak of 'little'."

"The best things come in small packages," Ginny said with a grin and a cheesy wink.

Take that, Mr. Sparkly Mouth.

Riddle raised an eyebrow at her, before returning his eyes to his parchment and they wrote in silence.

I'll ask Grace and Alden to help me decide on some music. All I want to hear is the Weird Sisters, but they haven't even been born yet. Come to think of it, their parents probably go to Hogwarts. That'd be something for the scrapbook.

The only sound was the scratching of quills and the tick of the clock on the wall when Ginny started to daydream. She stared vacantly at the wall, wondering what was for dinner, what was going on with Grace and Alden, what was going on back in the twenty-first century, if Dumbledore was alright, if Hogwarts was still standing, and if everyone was dying right now because she hadn't killed Riddle yet…

Blood, pooling around her feet. Ron's screams echoed and echoed, of absolute agony, his face draining of all colour as his body rapidly emptied of blood onto the floor around her... her, screaming, screaming, screaming –

Charlie screamed out. "Ginny… go…" he ground out, before it twisted into another scream. His hands twisted in horrific, demonic shapes as he battled his own mind. "GO!" he howled, and then a blood vessel burst in his temple and it was on Ginny and she was screaming, screaming, screaming –

The green light flashed brighter than anything, and a single tortured scream rose up from everyone present as their only saviour fell. Ginny was screaming louder than anyone. The green eyes of her first love widened, bulged, and then his glasses fell. And Harry tumbled forwards lifeless; Ginny ran to him, screaming, screaming, screaming –

Luna shouted out, shaking. Ginny ran to her side, but she felt immediately as though she would be sick when she saw that her close friend was having a brain haemorrhage. Blood poured from the blonde's ears, matting her shiny hair, as well as from her nose and mouth, and she was gagging on some sort of white foam. "Luna – Luna!" Ginny cried, but then her friend's eyes bulged out, one downwards and one sideways, and then Luna keeled forwards, collapsing on top of her. Blood was on Ginny, on her hands, on her clothes, in her MOUTH, and she was screaming, screaming, screaming –

"PEREGRINE!"

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she suddenly found herself on the floor of the Head dormitory, with Riddle kneeling beside her. She must have been still hallucinating, because briefly, just for a second, the redhead saw fear, shock and concern in the Head Boy's dark, flashing eyes.

"Peregrine, can you see me? Can you hear me?"

She nodded slowly. Her forehead was beaded with sweat and her cheeks were stained with tears. Her heart was beating at a hundred miles an hour, and she was having difficulty breathing. Pain was crawling through her back, which led her to suspect that she had fallen out of her chair very sharply, and she was trembling.

"What in shit's name was that?" demanded Riddle. It was the first time that Ginny had ever heard him swear, and she knew that she must have really freaked him out.

"I… I…" Ginny couldn't speak. Her voice was shaking terribly. It hadn't been so bad for a long time. She hadn't been struck by such vivid nightmares since the first week after the War. "W-what happened?"

"Do you think I know?" said Riddle incredulously. "That, genius, is why I'm asking you!"

"No… I mean…" Ginny paused to regain her breath. "To… me."

Riddle's jaw tensed, and Ginny almost felt guilty for having an attack in front of him. "I don't know! I was writing, and I wasn't really paying attention… and then you started muttering, really fast, to yourself. I just thought that you were re-reading your letter or something! But then there was a massive thump, and I looked around, and you were on the floor, twitching and shaking like mad with your eyes rolled back inside your head. I came over to see if you were joking and then you started screaming…"

Ginny's heart plummeted. She'd never had an attack like that. She'd never made her eyes roll back inside her head. Suddenly she realized who she was talking to, and skidded backwards on the carpet, away from Riddle.

"What?" said Riddle. "What's going on now?" he sounded cross at the possible start of more drama, and was beginning to act like the normal Riddle that Ginny knew.

She did not reply. She simply stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes, heart pounding in her chest. He killed them. He killed them all.

"Peregrine, what the hell's going on?" Riddle raked a hand roughly backwards through his neat hair. "Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you-"

Run. Ginny did not wait until the seventeen-year-old had finished his final sentence; she leapt to her feet, and, abandoning her bag, ran from the Head dormitory.

"What the-?" she heard behind her as she slammed through the portrait of a very affronted Robin the Rich, and before it swung closed, she heard bellows of, "Peregrine!"

She did not stop. Nor did she respond, or even acknowledge that she had heard. Heart beating a tattoo on the inside of her chest, feet eating up the stone-cobbled floor, she sprinted faster.

Away. Away from him.

…

A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNN. Review review review. –does review dance- Thanks to my beta SilvanXan. Enjoy the rest of the fic!

o00Bubbles00o: Thank you! And I'm not going to tell you that answer, because Ginny doesn't know, so neither should you! Nyah!

Ginny: Yeah, I thought about that as well. However, Ginny didn't take any time to research or get ready, she left immediately, so she couldn't have done any research. And I like to think that Riddle wouldn't have told her in the diary, because he was worried that she, a pureblood, wouldn't trust him, because he was half-Muggle. Or something like that. Thank you! I loved that part too, teehee.