The library was open late N.E.W.T.s week, much to Kate Gibbs' relief. How many hours had she spent studying for her transfiguration test? Fifteen? Twenty? It never seemed enough. At least Professor Dumbledore assured her she would do fine, his word meant something. Especially because he was kind enough to say so after he woke her one night and she accidentally transfigured his pointed hat into a possum. Indeed, he took it rather well, but Tom had had quite the laugh at her expense. She felt foolish enough around him, why did that have to go and happen?
He could've had the decency to be somewhere else, she thought, skimming the bookshelves that night. Though, no doubt, his common room was just as packed with noisy, unsympathetic children as her own. No, the library was the only place where one could be certain to find some quiet. Madam Pince made sure of that.
Now Kate realized she had stopped in front of a copy of Outsmarting Fate by Rosemary Dumed. It took a moment for the reason to dawn on her: he was on the other side of that very shelf.
Kate was by no means a dumb girl when it came to boys. She considered herself downright wise in the ways of teenage relationships, having been in many herself and had more than a few friends come cry on her shoulder. She was perfectly aware of the fact that she was not the only girl who fancied Tom Riddle. He had it all--smarts, looks, wit, not to mention the way his eyes seemed to see right through you, as if he were probing your mind whilst you spoke. Some found this strange, but she thought it was enthralling. Her simple crush had been growing over the years, and--though she knew this too was probably just wishful thinking--she felt she had some kind of connection with him that no one else did. Here is a boy, she told herself, who could give a girl everything she'd ever wanted.
Of course, now she wanted him, and that was the catch, wasn't it. Oh well, there must be ways. Yet some nagging part of her brain told her to quit before she made an ever more complete fool of herself. "Look at you," it said, and subconsciously she did. "You're four feet, eleven inches tall, for crying out loud. If it weren't for your boobs you could pass for a ten-year-old. This crush is childish, you are childish. Save face, Kate."
Briefly she wondered if that was her reasonable or negative side speaking. Her height (or lack thereof) annoyed her to no end, but she refused to let anyone come near her with a bottle of Skele-Gro or the like. The risk of ending up freakishly mal-proportioned far outweighed the troubles of being very short. As far as looking like a child, well, she'd been through that already. It was just one of those things you had to live with: no one taking you seriously, never being offered coffee, getting into events under children's fare. (All right, that part wasn't so bad.)
So now she stood, nervously fingering her plain dark hair, hoping it looked good. Looking through a set of library shelves at the boy she'd sat next to all year in NEWT transfiguration, the boy she'd often spoken with but never managed to say anything to so he might think of her once in a while. As their last year at Hogwarts wound down, she began to panic. If she didn't act now, what were the odds of ever finding each other again? Not that she expected them to get married or something, but she knew she had to act, otherwise this would just be another painful situation she would look back on and thing, "what if". No, it was now or possibly never.
"Hey, Tom," she said, strolling calmly out of her hiding place, as though she'd just happened to see him there and thought she'd sit down for a chat.
"Hi, Kate," he replied, looking up. He didn't seem the least bit surprised to see her, contrary to what she expected.
Sliding into the seat next to him, she established step one: affirm the obvious. "Studying for transfig?"
"Yeah," said Tom wearily. "I skipped dinner, and I still think I'll get a 'T' tomorrow." As he ran his hand through his hair, those penetrating eyes flicked up to meet hers.
He must be joking, Kate thought, looking back at him. The Head Boy, fishing for compliments….
Was it just coincidence, or even imagination, that he smiled when she thought this?
"I know what you mean," was all she said. "You can take a short break. Talk to me."
This time he really did smile, and she encouraged it with one of her most flirtatious looks. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "So what shall we talk about, Miss Kate Gibbs?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. How about, 'what're you doing when you get out of here'."
Tom hesitated, then looked around the library as if checking for spies (or people eavesdropping on their oh-so-scintillating conversation). "Promise you won't tell anyone?" he whispered.
"Promise," Kate replied. Her big eyes sparkled with the idea of a secret. "What, are you going to go smuggle beast eggs and things? You're smart enough. I bet you could trick the Ministry any old day."
He laughed, a light, genuine laughter that fell softly from his open mouth. "I'm flattered you think so."
Kate found herself giggling as well, though she was not sure what at. Stop it, Kate! You sound like a silly schoolgirl!
Beckoning her closer, Tom lowered his voice again and leaned near. "I want to write a book."
"A book?" she echoed in surprise, then remembered they were whispering. "About what?"
"Ancient magic. Stupid, isn't it?"
"No!" Kate exclaimed, never one to smush another's dreams. "What sort of ancient magic?"
"Really, really old stuff. The sort of things wizards today have forgotten about, like voodoo and African magic. Early religions, you know."
She nodded like she understood. "What about the curse breakers in Egypt and stuff?"
Tom made a 'psssh' noise through his teeth and waved his hand, as though waving away the aged hexes found on the pyramids. "Not curse-breaking," he said intensely. "Curse-making."
Something made her shiver, and she pulled her robes tightly around her tiny frame. "Where will you be going to do this, then?" she asked, trying to subtly direct the conversation.
Again he shrugged. "Where ever. What about you?"
"Brazil," she said, the answer so quick on her tongue that it surprised her.
"Why? What's in Brazil?"
Kate shook her head. "I'm not sure. My uncle is ambassador to Brazil, so I'm supposed to go see him as soon as I'm out of here. Maybe he can get me a job in the Ministry, he says."
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I want. Not yet, anyway."
Tom paused. "Make sure you get what you want, Kate. Ruin everyone else if you have to. No one's going to look out for you but you, remember that."
"Okay," said Kate solemnly. Her answer seemed lacking, but she couldn't think of what else to add except, "I'll try."
He smiled at her again, and for a moment she felt the slightly awkward conversation had been more than worth the effort. Then he suddenly looked at his watch and jumped from his seat.
"Jeez, is that the time? I gotta go, Katie. It's been great talking to you. Good luck on the N.E.W.T. tomorrow." He scooped up his books and, with a wink, hurried away.
"'Bye!" Kate called after him. Her mind was running overtime, bits of their conversation getting confused with Quippleoneous' Theory for transfiguration. Somewhere in the mix of it all, however, a plan was being born, before he had so much as left the room. He'd called her Katie. The theory was first conceived by Dagin Quippleoneous in 1102. He'd winked at her. The theory states that all matter transfigured….
There was ancient magic and voodoo and stuff in Brazil, wasn't there?
