Disclaimer: I just realized that I forgot it, so here it goes--I'm not J.K. Rowling, period.
Also, please please please review when you're finished...I need some feedback.
Quill-tips plunged themselves in bottles of black ink as a flurry of papers whispered across the stiflingly humid classroom. The mid-May heat made the examination almost unbearable for the robe-clad students of Hogwarts. Feverishly, they pushed back their draping sleeves between page turns, and peeled back as many layers of clothing short of being appropriate.
A single scorching ray of light, pouring from an intricate oriel window on the back wall, lay upon the broad shoulders of a dark haired boy, who sat, like the other students, vehemently working on his three feet of parchment essay. He tugged at his green and silver striped tie, relieving the pressure from his straining neck and allowing small drops of perspiration to roll from under the crook of his slender neck and come to rest on his protruding clavicle. The intolerable temperature brought a crimson flush to his cheeks, making his otherwise pale skin flooded with color. His furrowed brow quickly drained from his face as he slammed the quill down in a show of triumph over the task set before him. Gathering his papers, the chorus of scribbling quills was interrupted by the dull scraping sound of his chair being pushed back. With a great sweeping motion, his robes flew behind him as he marched up to his professor's desk, with a smirk upon his lips and a roll of parchment in his hand. Placing them down, he did an about-face and walked back to his own desk, surveying the room for anyone who dared meet his gaze.
He closely analyzed the movements of the blonde headed girl who sat directly in front of him. She sloppily wrote with her left hand and twirled a loose blonde curl in the other. He became mesmerized by the repetition of the light strands moving in a swirling motion between her index finger and thumb. Suddenly, a strong inclination to rip it right out of her head consumed him to the point of finding himself reaching for the tresses of blonde. She felt something move on the back of her scalp.
An ear splitting sound emitted from her pink lips.
"…the hell!?" She turned around to peer at Riddle as the rest of the class did the same.
"Is that racket?" finished Professor Slughorn.
"You have something in your hair," Tom quickly recovered, pretending to pull something from the strands of hair he was caught holding and disposing of the invisible object to the floor.
"Oh…" her delicate skin that was already scarlet from the heat in the room only intensified at her public show of hostility.
"Miss Westwood!" Slughorn called to her attentively, "That was not very lady like and I will not tolerate that sort of language! Ten points from Slytherin and one afternoon of detention." Her other classmates glared daggers at her.
Tom secretly grinned.
"Did you see that?" spat Evelyn, "He docked ten points and gave me detention just because his stupid mustache was having a bad hair day," she focused on this particular facial hair as it was well known that what Horace Slughorn lacked on the crown of his head, he made up for above his lip.
"I know," her Ravenclaw friend nodded in agreement, "You'd think he'd go easy on you on account of his obvious favoritism towards his own house, but---
"It has nothing to do with Slytherin," Evelyn interrupted assuredly, "if I was one of his little Slug-clubians, he would have dropped it in a heart beat, but since he thinks that I'm so obviously not smart, talented, well-connected, fill-in-the-blank enough, you and I don't get all the perks that they do," she gestured to a picture of the Slug Club that they had been so ironically passing just at the time that she said it. Her friend led the way to Ravenclaw's east wing tower and stopped at the hanging tapestry that served as their entrance.
"I've gotta catch up on some things, but I'll see you at dinner," she waved as the tapestry moved aside for her.
"Yeah, see you later, bye Margaret," Evelyn sighed as she made her way to her own common room.
'Why couldn't I have been in Ravenclaw?'
'Because you're not considered smart enough…' she immediately answered herself, 'I hate being in Slytherin, I don't even have any friends in my own house. The only reason I'm even in it is because of my stupid family heritage--- she cut her own thoughts short and stopped to look suspiciously around the empty corridor, half-expecting her dead ancestor's ghosts to rise up from hell and reign their furry over her. She jokingly thought that they must have been bothering some other name-resenting descendant at the moment as they failed to make an appearance.
Tom gracefully held a spoonful of soup eyelevel and then slightly tipped it, allowing the misplaced soup to return to its origin, "Why have I never seen that girl in our house before?" he cautiously asked this with a hint of annoyance so that Abraxas did not take it as having any sort of interest in the girl.
"I don't know, because she's really not that significant I suppose…she's definitely not the most popular girl in our house---not like—
"Hornby, I know…" Tom shrugged at the thought of the annoying female. She was always so quick to unfasten the two top buttons of her blouse, undoubtedly overestimating her assumptions about her own body and underestimating his concern with it.
"What would make her so particularly unpopular?" Tom inquired further, as he could see no signs of the possibility anywhere on her face.
"Her parents are very influential in the Wizarding world, make no mistake about that, they're actually rather well liked among pureblood families, it's just her. She's known to befriend mudbloods and the like…I would assume her parents either do not know about it, or they do and don't agree with it."
"Oh…" Tom feigned loosing interest but still gave her figure a fleeting glance as he turned to more important matters, "tomorrow night, at exactly ten o'clock, we're calling the Knights together. It is in your best interest to be on time," he added silkily.