A/N: Hello, this is a nice fluffy chapter. Don't worry, Ginny dearest is fine from the Quidditch knock. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Twenty-Eight: P is for Perkiness
She felt the whistling of wind before she heard the yells of warning. Alarm filling her, she looked around and saw a Bludger belting towards her.
There was a thud, and then suddenly Ginny was spinning, faster – faster – her knees gave out from clutching the broomstick, and silently she fell. She heard a horrified scream that was probably Grace, and then she remembered no more, save for this – Crunch.
xxx
"Is she asleep?"
"Ginny? Hello?"
The redhead pretended to be asleep. She wasn't in the mood for Grace and her peppy, hyper, perkiness. Nor was she in the mood to be delivered homework by Alden. She wanted to eat chocolate and sleep.
But they wouldn't go away!
Leave, Ginny silently willed. Leave…
"I think she's asleep."
"Ginny?"
"Grace, leave her."
"Giiiinny?"
"Grace! Let's just go."
She felt bad when they heaved sighs and departed the Hospital Wing, but snuggled down under her quilt and tried to find sleep.
"Miss Peregrine, you have a visitor," said Madam Royce, popping her head through the curtains.
"Iduncare," mumbled Ginny, pulling the covers over her face. "Life hurts."
"Good morning, sunshine," said a familiar - the last person that she expected to hear.
Hardly believing her ears, Ginny pulled her quilt down and turned her face to the voice. Riddle was standing a few feet away, his arms folded over his neatly-pressed green-and-silver tie, smirking.
Well, at least I can count on him not to be perky.
She blinked blearily at him. "Hello, Riddle," she mumbled.
"Pretending to be asleep to your friends?" Riddle raised an eyebrow, and tsked.
"I can't stand their perkiness," Ginny muttered, unsure why he was telling. "The only reason you're here is because you're an uncheerful sod and I know that I can count on you not to be perky."
Riddle ignored the insult. "Is that so?" A shallow smirk tweaked the corners of Riddle's thin lips. "I could jump up and down and squeal, if you like – if perky is what would make you feel better."
"Riddle, far from making me feel better, you'd probably give me a heart attack," Ginny pointed out, rolling her hazel eyes.
"What did you break?" asked Riddle coolly, going off on a random new topic.
"How d'you I broke anything?" Ginny retorted defensively.
"I think that the only people who didn't hear that crunch were in Wales, Peregrine," Riddle commented dryly.
"You're in a good mood today," Ginny observed, her gaze flickering over his face.
"Peregrine, I don't have good moods," Riddle corrected. "I have mildly untroubled days. And yes, today is one of those, I have noticed."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure. I like to assume that nearly blowing the skull out of Abraxas Malfoy has put me into a less pessimistic perspective," said Riddle. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, frowning at the ground, as though he wasn't quite sure of something.
"Why d'you always talk like an encyclopaedia?" Ginny inquired. She was being very rude, and she flushed pink, but held her head high.
As she had known, Riddle's gaze flared to her angrily. "I don't," he said, and his tone was colder than it had been a moment before.
Okay, okay, no need to get over-dramatic about your wounded ego.
"I believe that you're still avoiding my question," Riddle said, looking up at the ceiling, which, for someone as colossally tall as he was, wasn't very far to look up. "What broke?"
Ginny pursed her lips. "I… I just…" she said, with growing irritation towards the Head Boy. Finally, deciding to get it over with, she muttered, "my tailbone."
"Ah."
She fixed a glare on him. His face was masked and smooth as always, but Ginny knew what was going through his head, from the simple 'ah' spoken. "Hey, Riddle," she snapped. "Just because I've broken my arse in three places doesn't mean that I won't kick yours."
"I do not doubt it for a second," replied Riddle smoothly. There was a pause of pregnant silence before he said, "it's mid-November now, and if we are to hold another disco-ball in December, then we need to start planning. I've scheduled a date for the next Prefect meeting, but, as you are a crucial member to the team-"
He sounded, Ginny thought, as though he sincerely resented that. The very idea made her smirk.
"- I suggest that you regain health in time to attend, as I don't think that Madam Royce would agree to a crowd of Prefects filling the Hospital Wing with bothersome noise," Riddle finished.
"Okay."
There was a feeling of slight disappointment lodging now in the redhead's chest, and her 'okay' was quieter and more subdued than she would have liked. Bewildered, she shoved the emotion away, and looked back up at Riddle.
Once again, the seventeen-year-old had that look of uncertainty flickering on his supposedly impassive features. He must have felt her eyes upon him, because his dark gaze flashed down to hers. For a few seconds he merely stood there, before clearing his throat.
Ginny suddenly recognized the hesitation. It was the same – identical – to when he had followed her from the Great Hall to apologize. It was his oh dear I don't want to do this but I think I have to face. She couldn't for the life of her work out what was wrong now.
"Riddle, what-"
"I realise," he interrupted, staring at the ceiling determinedly, the same as last time, "that you have probably forgotten, and that I should quite honestly leave it, but I think that I should say anyway-"
He was rambling.
Ginny was in a state of near shock.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, unfazed by anything, was firing out a nervous ramble at her.
"-but the thing is that I apologize deeply for calling you…" he paused, as though summoning courage, and then said curtly, "Mudblood," he paused again, "and, as evidence of my solemnity, I brought you a gift – as an apology, and also because you're sick, and that it's only polite to bring things to sick people."
Confused, Ginny slowly dissected the ramble to try and understand.
He was sorry for calling her a Mudblood.
And he got her a present.
What in the name of Merlin has this world come to?
"You got me something?" echoed Ginny incredulously.
Riddle's eyes flashed down to her again, before darting away. "Yes," he said shortly, and gesturing ambiguously towards the bedside table.
Biting her lip in preparation for the pain that she knew was coming, she rolled onto her side towards Riddle and the table.
Ow, ow, owww… ow.
She stifled a gasp as she shifted into place, and then looked at the items atop the bedside table.
There was her wand, a vase of orange canna lilies, a box of Cauldron Cakes with Get Better Soon – Grace and Alden XXX on it, and a tub of Chocolate Frogs.
There's nothing there…
Then she looked at the canna lilies and saw a note pinned to them. She gasped again, audibly this time. "Riddle, you got me lilies?" she breathed, looking over at him.
Oddly, he didn't look pleased or embarrassed. He had an angry gleam in his eyes, and his lips were thinned. "No," he said darkly. He tore his eyes from the flowers and glared at the floor. "I think those are from Reeve."
"Oh." Ginny picked up her wand, and pointed it at the lilies. "Incendio," she said, and promptly set the lovely orange flowers on fire. "Now, then."
She leaned over to replace her wand upon the table when she saw something hiding behind the box of Cauldron Cakes. She plucked it between finger and thumb and brought it close to her face.
It was a small, perfect flower. A yellow primrose, almost in full bloom, but with a few buds still curling out from their winter beds.
Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came from her lips.
"They only had Hufflepuff colours," said Riddle wryly. "If I had strived for true Slytherin spirit, you'd be holding a piece of grass. Take your pick."
"Riddle, it's…" she whispered. She didn't have a word for what she thought. Harry had never given her flowers – instead, his killer did. It was too bizarre to even try and comprehend. And, also too beautiful, though the flower was tiny, inexpensive, and probably just taken from the Greenhouses.
She set it delicately to her nose and inhaled a sharp, sweet smell that could be found nowhere but fresh primroses. So beautiful. So lovely. Her eyes were drifting closed. So lovely. So tired.
"Peregrine, ae oo…"
The rest of Riddle's sentence blurred, and she fell quietly asleep with her nose to the little yellow flower. And she found an odd sensation – the pang of odd disappointment was gone, and replaced by a bloated feeling like she ruled the world.
xxx
A/N: Sorry, it's another short one. Nice and fluffy. Thanks to my beta SilvanXan. Please review, it makes my day.
xxx
storm-brain: Nah, she isn't dead. Lol, you don't ask if she's dead that often. Only twice.
Audrhole: No, Tom doesn't play Quidditch. It's like in the film Mean Girls, where everyone is labeled: the people who play Quidditch are generally really popular, and Tom's basically a geek. Aw. Pop-pop-banas hugs fictional Tom. Tom: Get off. Lol, sorry that was really random. Thanks!
BSDSanta2001: Sadly not. I wasn't in Paris, I was in the far south of France, away from civilization, where there are more cows than there are hot French guys. –pout- No fun. Ooh, thank you, that is a big compliment.
XxRandomHeartxX: Thank you! Oh, isn't procrastination just so much fun? –sigh- Have fun with your homework. :D
AppleC0re: She's not hurt that badly, don't worry. Yay! Cookie! –grabs cookie- Nyum nyum. –munch- Thank you!
Saene: Uncanon rocks. –rock on hand gesture in the air- Yeah, I can just imagine Ginny stammering to her team-mates, "Well, see, I'm from the future, and I was a Gryffindor, so I kind of got confused." Lol! Thanks.
Intricacy: I hope that this fluffy chapter made up for the short previous one.
Leah: Thanks!
KayRose: Ouch. I've been stung by a jelly-fish before. I've been injured by anything possible to injure myself on. Even a spoon. It is possible, trust me. Imps that get squashed? Interesting anamoly. Taste of Chaos? Is that a play? I don't know, sorry. But I'm going to see Les Miserables for my birthday. Yay! Thank you!
Tabasco03: Jack and Claude are funny, I love them. Thanks.
o00Bubbles00o: Thank you! And I just have to say HAHA because 'uber' isn't even English. It's German. But I don't like German (the language. Not the people. The people are cool), no offence to German people. Or you, if you're German. It just annoys me. It's hard to speak.
Creative-writing-girl13: Don't worry, she's fine. She just broke her butt! Lol!
kyraThePoop: Aw. Feel better soon. I'm glad you liked it, writing Quidditch is quite hard. Oh, I lived in China for five years, so I learnt it there. It is actually quite easy to speak – easier than French or German. Writing is hard, though. I don't know what film that quote's from, sorry. I don't watch many films, though I am planning to see The Elephant Man and Forrest Gump soon…they sound good. Sorry, I'm rambling. No, Tom didn't save her. I didn't really decide if he was watching the Quidditch or not. Thank you!
xxx