There was precious little she trusted more than her intuition. So when she had the nagging feeling that something was wrong she didn't dismiss it. That nagging feeling had led her to follow one Lucretia Black discreetly with the use of a quick disillusionment charm and sticking resolutely to the shadows of the hallway. She'd walked quietly behind the girl for some time, as the other girl took several back pathways before stopping in front of an unremarkable tapestry on the 7th floor. She wondered fleetingly if she'd been wrong to be suspicious of Black when the girl in question chanced a hurried look around the seemingly empty corridor before disappearing behind the aged fabric.

She counted the seconds to ensure a full two minutes had passed before she approached the tapestry. What could Black be up to that would require her to sneak from the dungeons to the 7th floor in the dead of the night? She shuffled along the wall until she was flush with the lip of the alcove. From her position, she could hear the rustling of clothes and the wet smacking of mouths to skin. She smiled to herself. She knew that there was no way Ignatius Prewett was the one accosting his betrothed. The little trollop. This would make for quite the piece of leverage. She lifted her hand to draw back the tapestry and see just who she would have leverage over when a monosyllabic word froze her action.

"Tom!"

It was a breathy moan, and she felt her blood turn to ice. Her skin grew clammy and her heart thundered. She must have misheard there was no way that -

"Oh, Tom,"

Softer this time, but no mistaking it. If Black's moaning was to be believed she was involved in quite the tryst with none other than Tom Riddle.

Before she could stop herself she ripped back the tapestry. Riddle's hair was in a state, the usually immaculate style long since departed in the Black's clutches. His robe was tossed aside and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. His belt was unbuckled, though his trousers appeared to be intact.

His head snapped in her direction at the noise, and Lucretia ever enamoured, used the action to lay loud, wet kisses on his skin. He was staring directly at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Her eyes flicked down to his neck which was littered in love bites before coming back to his eyes. She hadn't been imagining it, he was looking directly at her. She quickly looked down to see that she was quite visible. A quick look to his hand confirming her suspicions. He had countered her spell.

She watched as he stood, still pressed intimately against Lucretia, eyes wide and disbelieving. Watched as emotions quickly flit over his face before settling on what could only be described as pleading.

The last thing she saw before she hurried away was his mouth opening. No doubt with some lie. It didn't matter though. She guessed none of it did.

She was surprised when she made it back to the safety of the common room without incident. The trek to the alcove had been quite the adventure in staying undetected, so to run straight to the common room, down the main staircase undetected felt like a blessing. She'd just made it to the top of the stairs, desperately out of breath, when she heard him burst into the room.

"Let me explain."

She didn't turn to him when she responded, not immediately. She needed to reign in her emotions before she faced him.

"Explain what exactly Tom?"

The only sound to be heard above the crackling hearth was their heavy breathing.

"Anastasia-"

"I'm sure there's nothing that you can say that will have the effect that you desire Mr Riddle. So why don't we just save ourselves the trouble and go about our respective ways, hm?"

She turned to regard him at last and took in his appearance again. He was pristine as always. Hair sitting just so, uniform unwrinkled, the headboy badge pinned to his robes. She frowned. Such a contrast to what she had just seen. Even the love bites were gone.

"Come here, Anastasia."

She laughed. And then she laughed some more, did he really think her so stupid.

"Now Mr Riddle, why would I do a thing like that?"

"I'd like to have this conversation civilly."

"I'm not sure there is a conversation to be had, Mr Riddle."

She didn't miss the twitch of his jaw or the way his hands balled into fists.

"I'd rather not let the entire house be privy to anything we may discuss." He practically hissed the last word and she suppressed the shiver that threatened to run down her spine.

She dropped her voice low in response, "Is that why you instructed her to find you on the 7th floor? No Slytherin would stumble across you fucking her up there, and it's close enough to the heads dorms that you could explain away why you'd been out of bed should you be seen on your way back."

She smiled wickedly when a sneer attempted to claim his usually handsome face. Seems like she'd hit the target with that one.

She looked away from him briefly to survey the common room. It was empty but for a few of their classmates who were clearly listening with rapt interest, try as they might to appear otherwise.

"Where is she anyway, your whore?"

She was sure his jaw would snap if he clenched it any harder. At this rate, she'd be surprised if his teeth hadn't turned to dust.

She watched him as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Fought to keep his precious little secret to himself. Watched as he kept his lips firmly closed. She smirked. So he thought that he could save face by not answering her? She'd have to adjust.

"My apologies Mr Riddle, it was not my intention to offend your delicate sensibilities with the use of such crass language to describe the amorous embrace that I found you in. Permit me to rephrase."

Her smile was downright predatory.

"Where is Lucretia Black?"

This certainly hadn't been how she had intended to use this bit of information. She certainly hadn't wanted to show her hand so soon. But then again, things often didn't go to plan where Tom Riddle was involved. The hearth crackled merrily. There wasn't a person in the room whose attention wasn't focused on the two. Good.

She could practically see him weighing his options. There was no way to get out of this cleanly, she'd made sure of it.

"She's in the hospital wing."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He wouldn't? Would he?

"You know Mr Riddle, most respectable pureblood witches learn of the contraception charm at the passing of our first cycle. Mayhaps Ms Black should ask her mother for assistance so you needn't rush her to Madame Dupont every time you two...embrace."

Her blood chilled at the toothy grin he gave her. He would.

"Anastasia you needn't worry. As you well know I'm careful myself." She felt blood rush to her face and was grateful, for her dark skin. He gripped the rail of the stairs and placed one foot on the still solid step as he leaned towards her. "It would appear that Ms Black had a run in with the wrong end of a cruciatus curse."

His words were syrupy in their sweet tone and she immediately felt sick. He watched her for a moment before he spoke to the others in the common room, not breaking eye contact with her to do so.

"All of you get out. Now."

He hadn't raised his voice, the threat clear as day from his previous words. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him as the room was vacated.

No sooner had the final door closed than he had silenced every door within Slytherin.

She didn't speak, didn't move. She just watched him. He removed his foot from the now slippery ramp and released the rail, returning to his full height. And still, she did not speak.

"Please come here, Anastasia."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"And why Merlin tell, would I do that? Let's see, oh, so you could push me up against a wall and kiss me silly? Tell me how sorry you are in that voice we both know I can't say no to? Finish what you started with Lucretia?"

She was seething by the time she was finished and she could tell that he was in much a similar state of agitation.

"Lucretia meant nothing."

She laughed again. "Was that supposed to make me feel better Riddle? Merlin how could you be so stupid."

She saw his jaw twitch, either at the use of his surname or the insult to his prized intellect. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her lips. He was so predictable. Well, sometimes anyway.

"What exactly does that say about how you feel about me then? Is what we had so meaningless to you that it was worth it to throw it away on someone that 'meant nothing'?"

"What we have." His tone was resolute.

She sneered at him. "You'd have to be as fucking mad as a hatter if you think there's still something between us."

"Anastasia."

She ignored his pleading tone, ignored how his voice dropped to something almost sinful, how his eyes begged her to hear him out.

"How many times?"

He didn't respond, but at least the trap that he had laid was now gone and in its place was poorly contained anger.

"How. Many. Times. Riddle."

"I don't know!" It was a roar that cut through the deafening silence.

She winced, "That many. I see. I must have meant a lot less than I had supposed." She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She would not cry here. Not in front of him.

"Was she at least good? Was the sex worth it?"

She didn't expect him to respond, although her traitorous emotions wished that he would. Wished that he would say that it hadn't been worth it to lose her. Hadn't been worth a second of the pain he had caused her. So his next words left her winded.

"It was adequate."

She looked at him again and saw the man that she had fallen for. Beautiful and damaged and her heart broke anew.

"I'd have thought you of all people would be repulsed by adequacy, yet here we are."

She didn't wait for a response.