A few things to consider before you read - First, this an edited, republished version of a fic I wrote before that I have since deleted. If it seems familiar, it might be because you've read the original. This is not identical to the old version. Second, this is told entirely from a limited third-person perspective that follows Tom's point of view, creating a somewhat unreliable narrator rather than a completely omniscient or neutral one. This is intentional. Keep that in mind as you read. Third, I find perfect characters nauseating and I will not be writing them. Everyone in this will have flaws and be prone to reasonable human error.

Finally, this story will eventually involve a student/teacher relationship with unhealthy interpersonal dynamics. If that makes you uncomfortable, I strongly suggest not reading it.

The first time he saw her, he thought she was too young to be a teacher. His first thought was that someone needed to tell the transfer student to stop following the teachers around like a lost puppy. With how unruly her hair was, comparing her to a dog wasn't entirely ridiculous.

When she was introduced as the new Defense Against the Dark Professor, he briefly wondered if Dippet was having a midlife crisis and hired her under the impression he might have a chance of fucking her if he severely limited her options. She was far too young to be a teacher, and likely wasn't qualified for the job. He didn't much care about Dippet's personal life, but if this Professor's lack of experience somehow managed to ruin his favorite subject he'd be angry.

Professor Granger, he learned that was her name, was to be sorted first, and as she walked up to take a seat under the hat, he began to guess what house she'd be in. She wasn't loud or obnoxious enough to be a Gryffindor, and she lacked the vacant expression typical of a Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw, most likely, he deduced.

But she had been under the hat for more than a few seconds now, with no call from the hat. Usually it yelled out immediately, but sometimes it took a bit. He narrowed his eyes to see her, and saw that she was squinting, looking up at the hat on her head with the glare of a person thoroughly annoyed.

What was it saying to her?

He knew that, occasionally, the hat talked to people, but usually only to explain its thought process to them before sorting. That's nothing to get angry about.

But her unladylike scowl was clear and nearly venomous, and he could just tell that whatever the sorting hat was saying was thoroughly irritating her.

Maybe it was telling her Hogwarts doesn't accept squibs even if they are pretty.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Okay, definitely not a Squib then.

He watched her shift her face back into a highly controlled neutral expression before making her way back to her spot at the staff table, and it occurred to him that she might be a bit peculiar.

The second time he saw her, it was the first day of classes. He saw her sit at the front of the room, watching the students gather in. Observing them, he noticed. He could practically see the gears in her brain turn as she looked over the classroom, most likely making little mental notes she'd file away for later use. She seemed like the type to do that -take in as much as she could before choosing to act.

Definitely not a Gryffindor.

When she began the class, she seemed a bit awkward. Like she had no idea what to say and was just hoping she didn't mess it up. When she finally spoke, her voice was stern in a way that drastically contrasted her tiny body. She asked the class if Professor Merrythought usually taught through the textbooks, and Tom quietly seethed in frustration. Merrythought may have retired unexpectedly over the summer, but that was no excuse to ask students how she should be doing her job.

"That is not how I will be teaching. For this particular subject," she said, and he perked up again, suddenly curious, wondering if he perhaps misinterpreted her initial question, "a theoretical knowledge is not enough. For example, if you've never been able to disarm an opponent in a classroom, your odds of being able to do so in an actual duel are slim. We'll be doing as much hands on learning here as possible. I'm going to help you learn and practice in a safe situation, so that if you are ever in an unsafe situation you are prepared. Understood?"

Tom not only understood, but agreed, and immediately decided he liked this teacher better than his old one. Age aside, she still seemed to know the importance of practicing magic, and that was more than could be said for a lot of other teachers.

Apparently, their first lesson would be on cursed, hexed, and jinxed objects. The class answered a bunch of questions that they would already know if they had so much as opened the textbooks assigned to their year, but as usual, he was surrounded by idiots with no appreciation for magic. Going through this basic information was tedious, but he took it for what it was: a review. A boring review that just covered terminology and basic rules for handling magical objects, but a review nonetheless.

It seemed she was done asking questions, because she pulled a box out from under her desk and he watched as she placed a few seemingly random objects on it. A shoe, a bottle of ink, a spoon, and a flower pot.

"It's important that you not only know that an object can be affected by dark magic, but how to identify and handle it when it has been. So here, I've laid out a few seemingly random objects in front of me. Some of them, though not all, have been tampered with."

Tom could feel his body react with anticipation. This definitely wasn't the type of lesson Merrythought would teach, and he decided at once that he would thoroughly enjoy this class if all lessons continued like this. He'd never gotten to see a cursed object before, let alone actually work with it. Normally the obnoxious gasps of his classmates would annoy him, but he didn't even notice it now.

"Settle down, these are basically harmless. I'd never put my students in danger. They've simply been jinxed for the sake of the lesson. We've gone over how to handle suspicious items properly, and I expect you to remember that."

To Tom, it was obvious that their teacher was not going to bring in anything that would kill them, but the other students repeatedly found ways to lower the standard for average intelligence. After repeatedly explaining the charm used to find traces of dark magic, she allowed each student the opportunity to test it out for themselves.

He remembered the basic lesson she had told them. Afflicted objects could often be identified by the atmosphere of magic around them, though many weren't sensitive(or observant) enough to do so, instead simply thinking that the object seemed strange or otherwise off putting. No directly touching anything suspicious. A charm could be used to search for traces of magic, and should any be found, the wand of the caster would softly vibrate.

It was simple, practical, and useful. He appreciated that.

When it was his turn to test it out, he held his wand out, performed the charm, and glided his wand over each of the objects. As soon as he moved over the ink, he immediately felt his wand start to gently hum against the skin of his palm, until the feeling connected all the way to his fingertips. He knew what it meant. Waving it over the spoon, it continued, as well as with the shoe. But on the last object, the flower pot, it abruptly ended.

He nodded and returned to his seat while he waited for everyone else to finish. When everyone was done, she went around the room collecting various answers on which objects they thought were the afflicted ones. It didn't surprise him that he got it right. Or that most other students got it wrong.

The shoe made anyone who wore it bang their toe against any furniture they passed. The ink would spill on any paper near it. The spoon would alter the temperature of your food before you could eat it. The flower pot was not in any way magical.

Technically, the little jinxes she used were considered "dark magic", but it was just a bit mischievous. An annoying prank, but hardly anything serious. Still, he couldn't help but notice he'd never heard of those before, and wondered if she invented them herself. A stupid use of magic, but it served its purpose, didn't it?

Before leaving, he glanced over to her a final time. He thought that maybe she was more interesting than she initially seemed. Even if she wasn't interesting, she still might be useful.

After classes had ended, he approached her door. Mainly, he wanted to see how she would answer questions for him if she wasn't dumbing it down for the rest of the class, but he also wanted to learn anything else he could about her. Any information about a person could be useful, he knew. Gently, he knocked on the wood of the door and waited for a response.

He'd damn near perfected the act of being a polite, orphaned schoolboy. Everything had to be in character, he had learned. He knew he could never make the same mistake he had with Dumbledore if he wanted to be successful.

Just when he thought she might not be there, the doorknob turned and the door cracked open just slightly. Knowing it was permission to enter, he did. He walked in, quietly shut the door behind himself, and walked in front of her.

"Professor, are you busy right now?" He intentionally kept his tone incredibly courteous, doing his best to create a good impression.

"No," she replied, but he knew she was lying. For now, he appreciated that. Pushing the papers she had busied herself with to the side, she motioned for him to take the seat in front of her. He complied. "Mr Riddle, correct? What can I help you with?"

"I had a question about the lesson, but seeing as it is the first day of classes I didn't want to ask it and be late." She nodded, and he continued. "During class, you mentioned that if we do discover an item is cursed we shouldn't touch it or do anything with it because it could be a risk to our safety. How exactly are curses broken, if we shouldn't interact with them?"

He waited patiently for her response, curious to see exactly how much she would explain for him. He knew the answer was complex, depending on a variety of variables, but he didn't know exactly what the answer was. If he wanted to know, he could just go to the library, he knew. But that wasn't the point this time.

He took the moment she wasn't speaking to watch her, and he noticed that she was doing exactly that to him as well. He noticed the way she observed him, as though she were trying to figure out exactly what words would be best received by him.

Fitting for a Slytherin.

If she was overthinking it, he wasn't going to tell her. He noticed the way her hands began to fidget with her quill, which he knew was often a sign a person was either anxious or deep in thought. He also noticed, though with a bit of confusion, that her knuckles had scars on them. Maybe she was bulimic, or maybe she could throw a punch. Neither seemed particularly likely, but it didn't stop him from internally speculating.

He wasn't exactly sure what lead him to decide that it was more likely she could throw a punch, but that's what his head settled on.

Suddenly, she spoke again, as though she hadn't just spent the last minute thinking it over. Her voice was calm, collected, and the words left her mouth sounding completely natural. It did not, however, sound like the way a person typically talks to a second year student.

She explained that for simple jinxes an average wizard could probably figure it out with a little research, but more dangerous curses would have to be handled by a professional who would combine various types of magic as necessary to dismantle the curse.

Since she wasn't treating him like a second year, he decided to see how she would respond to questions that weren't typical for someone of his age. He asked about how magic combines, and if there were any dangers of attempting so.

Much to his satisfaction, she continued to answer anything he asked, and he didn't mind that they were both late to dinner that night.

He could already tell that she would be very helpful if he needed her to be.