Disclaimer:Sadly I do not own Tom, Tonks, or any other Harry Potter character that may be mentioned; they are the beautiful creation of JK Rowling. Any character you do not recognise, is probably a not-so-beautiful creation of mine. Enjoy.
Reviews are also good....Hint, Hint. ;]

Conundrum

Chapter One- Home Sweet Home...Of sorts

The glass window of the scarlet carriage was coated with condensation, a product of the warmth within contrasting with the freezing Scottish weather outside. As the carriage swept through the picturesque, if not warm countryside, Tom Riddle wondered about the year ahead of him. He was going back to Hogwarts for his final year, he was going back to a better place than he had come from, and he was going back to his home..of sorts. He said of sorts, because although it was the only place that he had ever felt remotely at ease, it wasn't really a home. A home was where parents were, where a family was, and he, he thought bitterly to himself, had no family. Orphaned from the moment he set foot on this Earth, he had never known what it felt like to have a family. Mrs Cole and that godforsaken muggle orphanage were not a family. Cold and hardened from the abandonment of her husband, that woman had made his life hell from the moment he was under her care. The musty hallways, and rickety framed beds were not a thought he associated with a home, he associated them with pain, distress and the ultimate feeling of exclusion.

The day that Albus Dumbledore explained to him that he was in fact a wizard and he was to go to Hogwarts, and leave Mrs Cole and the orphanage behind, was one of the best moments in his life, not that he would admit it to anyone.

Dumbledore was a mystery to him. From the moment they met, there was a particular quality about him that made him feel...uneasy. Every time he was subjected to those piercing blue eyes, he almost felt them trying to probe deeper into him, than Tom would have liked, an uncomfortable feeling spread over him. He knew that his actions when he was a child were wrong, and that they could have been described as bullying, but he felt that he has matured since then, evidently Dumbledore thought differently. Throughout his years at Hogwarts, he had always felt that Albus Dumbledore had kept an especially watchful eye where he was concerned, almost as though he was convinced that Tom was, and would be, completely different to his fellow pupils.

Tom was pulled out of his reverie by the clatter of his carriage door- someone was knocking, and rather too loudly for his taste. Ensuring his face was purged of all emotions, and adjusting his head badge so it was more prominently placed on his chest, he pulled open the door, and glanced at the knocker, disbelieve and annoyance clouding his perfect mask; It was a girl. Mousey- haired, and fairly short, she looked up at him, evidently surprised at his frosty demeanor. Seeing that he wasn't going to speak first, she cleared her throat and said:

"Uh, hello. I was wondering if you had any room in here, I can't seem to find a seat, and I get a little train-sick. And car sick." She added as an after-thought, "and bus sick, well basically any kind of sick that involves travel, wait, travel sick." She looked at him triumphantly. "Yes, that's what I meant. I knew there was a single word for them all; travel sick."

Tom stared at her, bewildered - what the hell was she doing here, firstly, wanting to sit with him and secondly, telling him about her problems with various forms of travel? He clearly was taking too long for this girl's liking, because soon she was talking again.

"Eh...Hello?" She asked, waving a hand in front of his face (well really it was his shoulder, as she wasn't nearly tall enough to reach his face). Tom eyed her icily, before replying:

"Yes, there is in fact room, as you so eloquently put it, in this compartment, as no doubt you can see, as I assume that you do have the good sense to check before knocking. Therefore, I presume that you were actually asking, if you would be at liberty to sit here. If that is the case, then I suppose," he eyed her warily before continuing," you may, on the basis that I do not have to suffer your inane, mindless chatter."

Slightly gobsmacked at his answer, the mousy-haired girl nodded, and made to move past him to take a seat. He moved out of her way, and the way of her cumbersome trunk, and watched her as she took the seat opposite him.

He eyed her trunk pointedly. Firstly, because it was plastered with stickers, and had the word "Tonks" scribbled over it in various styles and sizes, an exceptionally childish thing to do, he thought. And secondly because, quite clearly, it should not be sitting on the ground next to her, but should in fact be stowed away in the over head storage. After a few moments, she eventually took his hint, and proceeded to haphazardly try and put the trunk in the netting that was already neatly holding Tom's trunk. After a few minutes of watching her helplessly try and fling the trunk into the netting, Tom decided, with his height advantage, he should put it away for her, but not without throwing a superior glance her way. She flashed an unwilling, grateful smile his way, and then resumed her seat. He mirrored her actions, and then decided that he would look out of the window- he was not one for small talk, and especially not with this girl.

He turned to face the window, and then remembered the condensation. Damn. He would look like an idiot trying to look out of a steamed up window, and he certainly wasn't going to wipe the wetness away with the sleeve of his sweater. It wasn't in a very good condition to begin with, being orphaned did not pay well, and he wasn't going to worsen it, just because of some silly, childish girl. Girls. The opposite sex was not something he had much contact with, nor did he wish too. Not that he should have any trouble in the looks department, at least according to the whispered conversations he occasionally caught moving from class to class. He, seemingly, was not an ugly member of the male sex. He was thought, in some cases, to be quite attractive, apparently some girls like the "tall, dark and handsome type", as thats how he heard himself to be described. They seemed to almost always overlook, the distant, cold bastard side,that he always portrayed to the world, he thought wryly. Nevertheless, girls, were not his forte, and that suited him just fine.

Breaking out of his train of thought, he found himself, rather stupidly, staring, but not seeing, out of the condensation coated glass window- the very thing he had been trying hard to avoid. Damn it. He turned to face the girl, and found that she had been studying him, interest present on her face. He felt his pale face heat up; this is definitely not what he had wanted to happen.

"What?" He asked, annoyed. He was irritated in two ways; at himself for doing the very thing he planned to avoid, and at her for having the indecency to stare at him. Of course, he was used to the staring by now; he was always stared at school. However, at least people looked away quickly after he caught them, this girl had the audacity to continue.

"Yes?" She asked innocently. Apparently all thoughts of travel sickness had been dissipated, Tom had provided her a distraction.

"Is there a reason that you happen to be staring at me?" He enquired, ice coating his words. Yes, I know that I am an unusual specimen, you stupid girl, but there is really no need for you to continually stare at me, he thought, irritated. It irritated him that this, random girl, was managing to cause him so much annoyance in a matter of ten minutes. He wondered how she was managing it.

"I was just wondering why you were staring so intently out of a window, coated in condensation." she smirked slightly.

Bollocks. Just when she was proving to be seemingly, spectacularly unobservant, she had to go and notice his mistake.

Right, well if you are not going to back down, he decided, then that is not my problem. Idiotic girl.

"It is actually none of your business as to why I was staring out of the window, but for your information, I was actually deep in thought, not that you would know what thought is, let alone deep thought." There, a tiny hint of a smirk, playing around his lips. That should shut her up, he thought triumphantly.

"Well, well, well." She locked eyes with him. "You've met me all of ten minutes, and already you have judged my intelligence, or lack thereof. Well let me tell you something, Mr... Mr..." she floundered for an insult, but caught sight of the Head Boy badge, prominently displayed on his chest. "Mr Head Boy, I actually am intelligent, and my exam results prove that, so hah." She gave him a smug smile, as if some how, that would settle the matter even further.

Interesting, he thought musingly. She seems more fierce than other girls, not that he knew many. Still, her elusive come back was not so fierce. His smirk became more pronounced.

"Contrary, to popular belief, I actually enjoy the fact that I am Head Boy, so that insult was entirely lost on me. So, "hah" as you articulately put it. "

Her eyes narrowed, but she admitted defeat.

"Touche."

He watched her graceful surrender, and suddenly had the urge to laugh. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but for some strange reason, he really wanted to laugh. Not at this girl's misfortune exactly, but at this girl's clear lack of comebacks, and at her mistake for trying to outsmart him. And, what he found even more...unusual, was that his laughter wasn't out of spite, but out of something else...something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

"So.. Mister Head Boy, what am I actually supposed to call you? I mean considering your enjoyment of being Head Boy. Would you like, Your Majesty? Or perhaps, Sire is too your taste? No wait, I know, how about; His Most Honorable, Lordship- Head Boy?" She asked, almost sneering at him.

He glared at her. Yes, she was definitely a fierce one. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her, before replying:

"Riddle." He answered shortly.

"Riddle?" She enquired. "Riddle what?"

"No, Riddle is my surname." He wondered why he was explaining this inquisitive girl.

"Okay, so what is your forename?" She spoke to him as though he was in some way mentally unsound. Perhaps that is why his tone was so cold.

"Riddle will do just fine, thank you." His voice could have turned water into ice.

She jerked back slightly at his reply, so he was right, his voice could have turned water into ice, he thought cooly. She recovered her composure fairly quickly, he noted, and soon she had a calm expression affixed on her face.

"Whoa, calm it Janet. I was only asking." She rolled her eyes, before continuing. "So, Riddle. Aren't you going to be a gentleman, and ask about me?"

No. He said mentally, why would I care about being a gentleman to you? I've only known you for fifteen god damn minutes, and already you have managed to infuriate me. Still, as always, he remained calm, and rather dully replied:

"Fine. What is your name?" He asked, boredom saturating every word.

"Tonks."

He had thought as much, at least if the graffitied trunk was anything to go by.

"Interesting first name, have you got a surname, or could your parents only be bothered to give you just one name?"

"Actually, Tonks is my last name." He could see her reluctance at giving him her first name, he wondered how bad it was. After a moments thought, he decided that it couldn't be worse than his own.

My first name is...Hey, wait a minute." She paused, clearly remembering their conversation moments earlier. God, he could almost see the metaphorical light bulb being switched on above her head.

"I don't need to tell you, 'cause you never told me." She grinned at her own good fortune.

Yes, he was right, this one really was something, and that something was not very bright, no matter what she said, and no matter how many metaphorical light bulbs he could see lighting above her head.

****

Finally, he thought, as the scarlet train pulled into the station. Finally he could leave the company of Tonks, who, incidentally, was the most irritating, immature creature that he ever had the misfortune to meet. Sitting with Tonks for the duration of the train journey, and being forced to listen to her inane chatter, had almost been too much to bear. He had been inches away from pulling out his wand, and casting a silencing charm on her mouth, when the train had mercifully came to a stop. Thank God. He hadn't been too keen on explaining why he, the Head Boy, had been forced to silence a fellow student by means of a silencing charm, just because she couldn't keep her god damned mouth shut for two minutes. No, that would not have been a good idea, and would have almost certainly resulted in his Head Boy-ship being revoked, and she was not worth that, nothing was worth that.

Soon after the train had stopped, he and Tonks had alighted the train, and were making their way over to the carriages. The air outside was bitter cold, and he drew his scarf and cloak more tightly around himself. When was safely encased in one, he breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, Tonks was not present, as her short legs, and cumbersome trunk slowed her down some what, leaving Tom free to push ahead, and secure a carriage without her. He most certainly could not have survived another five minutes journey, with her babbling filling his ears.

****

He walked into the entrance hall, and released himself from the security of his cloak and scarf; miraculously, the great castle was warm. The stone walls were successfully managing to evade the harsh exterior chill, currently threatening to invade with every harsh howl of the wind. He soon found himself at his usual seat at the Slytherin table; at the end nearest the table where the professors sat. No one bothered him here, and so he was free to enjoy his solitude, and watch his fellow students and their mannerisms. He also, occasionally heard the odd interesting secret that was being discussed between the professors. Many of them were careless, and often he was in possession of many little details that they would not have wanted him to hear.

From his vantage point, he soon spotted Tonks traipsing in, and she sat herself in between an average looking girl, and quite a handsome looking boy, at the Hufflepuff table. Interesing... So she was a Hufflepuff. Her mannerisms, were genuine, not as he had hoped, just an irritating front.

Hoped? Why did I just hope that she isn't as irritating as she seems to be?! No. Scratch that, because hoping leads to attachment which leads to...No. No. I did not hope, and I will have nothing to do with her. Nothing.

The headmaster stood up for his usual beginning of term welcome, thankfully interrupting Tom's inner argument with himself. Every student turned their attention to the speaker, including Tom. He jolted slightly in surprise as he registered who was about to speak. The man who had stood to address the students, was not in fact Armando Dippet, but was actually the now silver bearded Albus Dumbledore, his former transfiguration teacher.

Dumbledore...what? When did he become headmaster...Then the penny dropped. He wasn't actually in his Hogwarts, he was in the Hogwarts of the future. His Hogwarts was long gone, the Hogwarts where he belonged was only a distant memory now. Hmmm. This was going to be...weird. Yes, very weird indeed.