I can't exactly explain how it happened, but Tom Riddle and I somehow became best friends. Perhaps I shouldn't use the term "best friends" because while I definitely considered him mine, the term implies certain things that weren't necessarily true about our relationship. We argued and would never admit actually enjoying each other's company, but we still spent almost every available moment together. We never shared or discussed feelings and we really couldn't care less about the happenings of each other's social lives. If I had to guess, I would say that growing up together is what made us at least tolerate each other. It was the predictability and understanding that made us close. While we were polar opposites in many ways, we still had some similarities that held us together. I don't mean to brag, but we're both pretty bright students, and both of us were incredibly polite and proper. I think that was our method of making our stoicism more socially acceptable. We liked logic and for things to make sense, and if I was being entirely honest, neither of us understood how love and other emotions seemed to control the actions of others. That being said, Tom is charismatic and a natural leader whereas I am a little shy and very awkward in conversation with people I have never met before. However, I actually have it in me to care about people and humanity as a whole. That's something Tom really struggles with- he sees people as either obstacles or pawns. Or at least, that's how he likes to make it seem to me.

"Good evening, Milagros," Tom said sitting down across from me. I looked up from my parchment that I was scribbling on. I was so entirely focused on my homework that I hadn't even noticed him approaching.

"Good evening, Mr. Riddle," I responded, giving him a slight glare.

He almost grinned at my irritation, "I have something I would like for you to get done."

"Calling me 'Milagros' doesn't make me feel very obligated."

"I am rather fond of your given name. You are one of the few Hispanics in this school," Tom said charmingly. Too charmingly. Almost innocently. Having known Tom as long as I have, I knew to be cautious whenever he got like this.

"I'm Hispanic whether I like my name or not," I said, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"'Milly' has a more European connotation to it," he stated.

"And your point is?" I asked, eyeing him carefully.

Tom smirked, "Asking to be called 'Milly' as opposed to 'Milagros' implies that you wish to conform. You don't want to stand out. Even if that means giving up who you really are."

I opened my mouth to say something, but words wouldn't come. I shut my mouth and started to blush angrily. I supposed it was true. Partially, at least. I didn't really want to stick out, but I wasn't giving up my identity in any way. If I was going to stand out, it would be because of my actions and character- not because of my name. I was more embarrassed and angry that Tom thought that about me than I was about the validity of the statement. I wasn't so weak that I would change my name to conform to these people.

"You're pouting, Milagros," Tom stated disapprovingly.

"It's Milly, Tom! Merlin, what do you want?! To psychoanalyze me some more?" I half shouted in the common room.

"You're overreacting. It's childish, really-"

"No, it's your insistence on suddenly addressing me by a name that I do not go by that's childish," I spat.

"What difference does it make what I call you?" Tom asked amused. Tom always stayed calm during my outbursts. Sometimes he'd throw in some insults, but most of the time I felt like he was mocking me with his innocent charade.

"It makes an incredible difference because you're Tom Riddle."

"And you're Milagros Rodriguez."

I rolled my eyes, "That's not the point. You have power over people, and you know it. If I allow you to start calling me by my real name, then in a matter of weeks the whole school will be referring to me as 'Milagros'."

"You flatter me, but no one is around to hear me call you that."

I put my books into my bag in frustration, "Fine! When it's just you and me, you can call me Milagros, but the second there is even a chance that some Tom Riddle wannabe is around-"

"Miss Rodriguez it is."

I groaned. Unfortunately, I knew that was as good as it was going to get. I rubbed my forehead in attempt to rub out some of my anger. I tried and failed to look at Tom as if this conversation never happened, "You said you needed help with something?"

"Let me make one thing clear, I do not need your help. I could easily do this myself. I'm simply very busy and have more important things to do."

"That isn't a good start," I almost groaned.

"Why must you insist on being so negative?" Tom said smirking like he knew exactly why I insisted on being so negative.

"Because you're asking me to do your dirty work," I said crossing my arms and holding back a smile. He wasn't going to coax me into it this time.

Tom held my gaze, "All things considered, I think you will be pleasantly surprised this time. I need a potion."

My arms dropped to my sides and my eyes widened. Tom had my full attention, and he knew it.

"It's advanced, and needless to say, breaking about fifteen school rules all of which could result in expulsion-"

"That's my favorite kind of potion," I said feeling myself getting increasingly excited.

Tom looked very serious, "Because I'm willing to accept these risks, this potion is obviously of great importance. No mistakes."

I rolled my eyes, "You know who you're talking to, right?"

"Well?" Tom insisted.

"Yes, alright? What's the potion?"

He pulled out a book, flipped to a page, and pushed it over to me.

"This?" I almost snorted, "Give me three weeks."

Tom's eyebrows rose, "Very well. I'll see you in three weeks, Milagros."

He left me pouring over the ingredients. This obviously wasn't my first time making a potion for Tom. He seemed to have a collection of friends that had certain talents. When we discovered mine in potion making, he came every once in a while with little favors for me to carry out. While I was looking over the material, several things occurred to me. The first being that I couldn't brew it in my dormitory. While it's my usual place for these potions, there was no way my dorm mates would let me get away with this one. I couldn't simply explain to them that Tom had asked me to brew it. They are either jealous of my personal relationship with Tom Riddle, however dull and platonic it may be, and would try to sabotage my potion or are a bunch of straight laces who wouldn't be able to resist getting me expelled. I decided I'd have to talk to Tom about that. We'd also have to discuss how I'd get the ingredients. He would usually get me the ingredients, and I'd brew it up as quickly and efficiently as I could, but it was never this big. I never had to be so secretive about it. My excitement kept me awake most of the night. After repeatedly reminding myself that the secret to Potions lays in patience, I at last fell asleep with dreams of brewing up my Mona Lisa haunting me every second.

The next day, I arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast to see Tom at the end of the table with Sylvia Lemming. She was Tom's flavor of the week. He would flirt with all the females, and would occasionally pick one to invite to eat breakfast with him. This made them feel special, but made sure that none of them thought they were exclusive. As Tom explained it to me, it was all a ploy to remain popular with the females, which in turn, made him popular with the males, and popularity was surprisingly important to Tom.

"Morning, Tom. Hello, Sylvia," I said sitting down.

"Hello, Miss Rodriguez," Tom said, giving me a subtle look. I knew what it meant. How could Sylvia feel special if I was stealing all the attention? He was right. I could tell by the way Sylvia glared and didn't return my greeting.

"I know you're annoyed with me already, Tom, but Professor Binns said I should talk to you if I needed any help with History of Magic, and well-" I said, feeling very proud of myself for my story.

Tom gave an exasperated sigh, "I suppose. Really, though, you should just pay more attention in class."

Normally, I wouldn't let Tom get away with that, but I forced myself to look bashful and said, "Okay, thanks."

It was all code. Tom knew that I really just needed to talk to him about the potion. Sylvia, on the other hand, did not.

As I was walking away, I heard her say, "You know that's just an excuse to spend time with you. I doubt she's really having trouble."

"Really, now?" Tom said with fake surprise, "I knew she was infatuated with me, but I had no idea it would go that far."

The last thing I heard when I left the Great Hall was Sylvia's obnoxious laugh.

"Have I mentioned to you, Tom, how much I hate it when you cut me down to look good in front of your lady friends?" I asked him while we were browsing the library later that day.

"You have brought it to my attention," he said flipping through a book.

"Really? Then why do you insist on continuing? I'm doing you a favor, I deserve a little respect," I said.

He snapped the book shut and returned it to the shelf, "I have told you, I can easily brew this potion myself. I figured you'd actually enjoy feeling useful for a change."

"If you really cared that much about my feelings, you wouldn't belittle me in front of those empty headed females."

"It's all an act, Milagros," Tom said sounding very bored, "You didn't seem to have any problems acting like an infatuated school girl. I merely played along."

"I was not acting like an infatuated school girl," I said indignantly.

"I don't have time for this. Is there something wrong with the potion already?"

"You mean besides having no ingredients and nowhere to brew it, correct?"

"You've never had a problem with location before," he commented browsing the books again.

I shook my head, "It was never as big as this is. My roommates wouldn't believe in a million years that I was making it for extra credit."

Tom's raised his eyebrows, "They bought that before?"

"They aren't the brightest."

"Yes, but you are. I expected more from you."

I blushed at the half compliment. "Sorry to fall short of your expectations," I muttered.

He sighed, "I know a place. It's here, in the castle, but not a word of it to anyone else."

"Obviously."

Tom took me to a third floor corridor and paced back and forth for a while, muttering to himself. Just when I was about to ask him what in the world he was doing, a door appeared in the middle of the wall. I couldn't believe my eyes and took a couple of takes between the door and Tom, who was walking toward the door with purpose and not caring in the slightest about my disbelief. I decided to pull myself together as Tom would probably get annoyed and stop showing me interesting things if I completely lost it every time. I realized that my jaw hung loose and snapped it shut. I also straightened a little and tried my best to appear nonchalant. Tom walked up to the door, opened it, and gestured for me to go inside.

"Thank you," I said walking through. Once inside, I saw that this room was my personal heaven. It may be pathetically lame to say, but I nearly collapsed upon entering. Everything I would ever need to make a potion was in here. There were lines of cauldrons, knifes, ladles, fires, and vials. My heart was beating quickly and I rushed to browse some of the ingredients that the room provided for me.

"I'll put the ingredients in here in about two days," Tom said, "You said you could have it ready in three weeks?"

I nodded, still looking around the room in wonder, "At most."

"Very well. I expect that you'll need nothing else in those three weeks? I don't want to be disturbed at breakfast again."

I was too amazed to be angered by that comment, "As long as you come through with the ingredients, I foresee no problem whatsoever."

"Good."

As he opened the door to leave, I suddenly remembered, "Oh, Tom! Wait!"

He sighed, "What, Milagros?"

"How do I get into this place?"

He almost smiled, "Right. You walk past here three times, picturing this place in your head. The door will appear."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said and took his leave.

Tom and I always sat next to each other in Transfiguration. Because of the difficulty of the subject, the teacher frequently had us partner up with the person we were sitting next to. Because Tom couldn't stand partnering with someone who didn't know what they were doing, he convinced me to sit next to him for the remainder of the year. It wasn't that I didn't like Tom, but working with him was difficult. He was so impatient and needed everything to be perfect. I was the same way in Potions, but when it came to Transfiguration, I had no problem slacking off a little. Tom wouldn't have it, though. I was forced to give one hundred percent. Another downside to being his partner was that he felt comfortable expressing his frustration with me. If he had partnered with anyone else he'd still have to play handsome and charming Tom Riddle, but instead, I had to deal with his brutal critique of everything I did.

I had arrived early to Transfiguration precisely two weeks and three days after I had gotten the ingredients for the potion in hopes that Tom would be early as well so I could tell him the news. Unfortunately, he wasn't there. Every time the door opened, my heartbeat quickened and I whirled around in my seat to see if it was Tom. The first few times the door opened, I was met with disappointment, but finally, there he was. He strolled in and I took a moment to appreciate the way he walked. It was full of confidence, and he looked like he didn't even notice all the girls swooning around him. He had that air about him- like he had more important things to do. I couldn't decide if I admired that or if I wanted to slap the arrogance out of him.

"It's finished," I said proudly once he sat next to me.

"I'm sorry, what's finished?" Tom said, turning to me like he couldn't care less.

I gave him a hard look, and recognition washed over his features. His apathy was replaced with what seemed to be the Tom Riddle version of shock. Tom doesn't show emotion very often, and when he does, it's about the tenth of what a normal person expresses when they're feeling apathetic. That makes it extremely difficult to know what Tom is thinking or feeling.

"Already?" he asked, "You made sure to-"

"Yes, Tom. Everything is accounted for. I'm actually a little hurt by your lack of faith," I said. I would never grow tired of impressing Tom, and I was shamelessly enjoying every second of it.

"I see. Thank you."

"No problem. Wouldn't want to see you get your hands dirty," I said looking towards the front. A couple minutes passed, and the professor had yet to show up.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked what it's for."

I turned toward him slowly, "Why does that surprise you? I've never asked before."

"Yes, but you said it yourself that this was of a little bit higher… magnitude than the others."

"Do you want to tell me what it's for?"

Tom looked like he had no idea what to make of that question. He allowed some confusion to seep into his countenance and stayed quiet.

I shrugged, "I kind of figured if you wanted to tell me, you would have."

He folded his arms across his chest, leaned back, and went from confused to charming in a fraction of a second, "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"I guess. That's some pretty heavy stuff you're dealing with," I said putting up my guard. I preferred Tom when he was mean. I think that might be a little unusual and backwards, but charming Tom scared me. This was when I had no idea what he was really thinking. This was when he was his most dangerous.

"'Pretty heavy stuff' is a bit of an understatement, wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps," I said cautiously.

"Do you know what that could do in the wrong hands?"

"I made it. I think I'm fully aware."

"Exactly. You made it. It's on your conscience if something bad happens with it, but you don't care. You'd make it for anyone without even asking what their using it for," he said smirking.

"I wouldn't make it for anyone," I muttered.

"That's cute. Playing infatuated school girl again?"

"No. Merlin, shut up," He was making me furious. I wasn't another skank that Tom used to get what he wanted. We were friends. I hated the voice he was using with me, too. That condescending voice he used with his other female companions. I was different.

He smirked, but actually did stay quiet. I had no idea what exactly he was getting at or what he thought he won by that conversation, but he was obviously very proud of himself for the remainder of class. When I got to the room Tom showed me later that night, the potion was gone. I didn't care. I just thought about what he'd said over and over again. Was I infatuated with Tom? Was he just using me? I made potions for him, but I thought I definitely amounted to more than that. He didn't bat his eyelashes at me. He sat down and told me his tricks with women. I thought a mutual respect existed between us, but maybe that's what he wanted me to think. Tom Riddle wove a tangled web of lies, I knew that for sure, but I also knew that he never lost track. He never slipped up. He had everyone right where he wanted them. What made me different?