My quill curls around my jaw, tickling my chin with each flick of my wrist. I flick it away in annoyance, angling my hand peculiarly as I silently mouth the words as I write them.

The homework the crusty old teacher had set had definitely proved quite a killer for my class mates, and even I can't help dropping my quill in intense relief, leaning back to nurse my hand. Two hours it had taken for me to complete the 2½ foot long essay on Anamagi and Werewolves; the information overload is making my temples throb.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you, Bliss." Tom breathes in obvious relief, plonking himself down on the seat beside me and snatching the roll of parchment before I can protest.

Somehow, admist all the excitement of beginning Hogwarts in squeaky clean clogs and to big robes, Tom Riddle swept me under the wing of his cloak, promising of magic and adventures around every corner. He hasn't disappointed yet.

His nose wrinkles in disgust at first glance, probably because of the word 'Werewolf' at the top in emerald green ink. His eyes travel over my work whilst I tap my foot impatiently, scowling.

"Impressive; for a fourth year." He smirks, leaning back and making the stool tip precariously. I kick him on the shin; nearly ending with him sprawled out on the floor if he hadn't grabbed the edge of the table in time.

Well, it was true. I am in my fourth year; I just hate it when he talks down to me like I'm some little kid. That's probably what he thinks I am anyway; just because he's in the year above. Git.

"Temper, temper, Bliss." He scolds mockingly, a sneer etched over his face.

"Well, you'd know all about temper, wouldn't you, Tom?" I retort, grabbing my homework out of his tight clutch with a snort. He scowls, shooting me an acidic glare.

Most people, had they ran into Tom Riddle and he was giving them the very look he's giving me now, would be bloody petrified but really? I think it just makes him look downright constipated.

"Shut up, Murphy."

"No, thank you, Riddle."

He casts me a withering look as I sling my satchel over my shoulder, shaking his head slightly. I roll my eyes.

"Was there any reason for you 'looking everywhere' for me, by the way?"

"Just for your company, though I'm starting to regret that decision," He growls, falling in to step beside me as I stalk out of the library.

"Well, I am sorry to disappoint you," I say dryly, skipping down the crumbling steps to the depths of the castle.

"You should be. I had to give up a snogging session with Miriam to find you." He huffs, blowing a few strands of hair out of his eyes.

I snort in disbelief. How Tom manages to wind every girl around his little finger I'll never know. I mean, half the time he isn't even trying. That wit and charm doesn't fool me.

Miriam Montgomery is an extremely loud and ridiculously bossy Slytherin in his year, famous for her cruel personality and sneer to match; wiry hair that looked like a horse's tail. Attractive.

Well, Tom obviously seems to think so.

He cocks his head to the side, observing me with a very peculiar expression. I cover my face self-consciously. What, did I have ink on my nose or something?

"She asked me out, Miriam I mean."

"How fascinating." I drawl, hissing 'Serpent' at the apparently solid brick wall we'd come to a stop in front of. The stone parts directly down the middle, allowing his access to the Slytherin with a long, grinding sound as granite grinds against granite. "Why are you telling me this?" To my amazement, he blushes; his face still somehow remaining in a cold glower. The talent of Tom Riddle, everybody; making two expressions at once.

"Because you're my friend?"

"How depressing it must be for you. Your only friend happens to be both a girl, and a year younger than you."

"So what? You're more interesting and clever than the prats in my year." He says quietly and I blink. Blimey, I'd expected some snide comment or something. He shakes himself slightly, raking a hand through his hair with a small sigh.

"So do you think I should?"

"Do I think you should what?"

"Oh, for the sake of Salazar, Bliss!" He snarls venomously. "Do you think I should date Miriam?" It amuses me highly when I piss him off.

I shrug. "I don't really care, to be honest, Tom." He glares at me, his face scowling.

"Bugger off."

"You were the one who came to find me, idiot." I snort, spinning in a circle. If looks could kill, I would be very dead right now. Dead meat. He sighs, exasperated as I settle down on the bottom step of the girls spiralling staircase, spreading out my frayed school skirt. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and fan my book, burying my head between the pages.

"Bliss," He sighs again, shaking his head slightly. "Could you possibly read that blasted book somewhere else? Perhaps on a chair?"

I follow his pointed finger and shake my head, black waves flaying around madly. "I'm still deciding whether I ought to go to bed or not. This way, I'm closer to my dorm should I want to." I shrug a shoulder, only half paying attention. "Ingenious really, if you think about it."

The incredulous look he shoots me burns on my cheek like a poker, making my lips curl into a grin at a reflex. It is exceptionally easy to annoy Tom, especially if you know what to look for. Like the fact that if you act oblivious to everything, you'll hear the faint scraping of teeth grinding against one another, mixed with a protruding pulse in his neck. He doesn't get angry, exactly. Just murderous. I feel sorry for the poor beggar who has the unfortunate fate of coming across Tom with his eyes flashing like a mad man. It would definitely be a record if I make it happen in the first few hours back to Hogwarts.

"What are you reading, anyway?" He snatches the book carefully from my fingertips, prying my grip loose. "You can't be doing homework already, surely."

I narrow my eyes, tucking a loose strand behind my ear to meet his coal like eyes. "Don't be such a tease and give it back!"

He shakes his head, dark curls flying about and in desperate need of a cut as he glances down at the cover and frowns, his eyes gleaming red ever so slightly I'm sure that I've imagined it. "But you know I can give you a detention, Bliss, should I want to." He flashes his gleaming Prefect badge and winks, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he gazes at me superiorly. I definitely must've imagined it, then.

I scowl, rising to my feet to look him square in the eye. Alright, I admit, I might have a slight advantage, seeing as I'm stood in slightly clumpy soled shoes, and the fact that I'm lounging about on the bottom step of the girls staircase and he's barefoot on the plush carpet, but I have grown! (A bit.)

"Don't be so immature, Tom Riddle, or I shall tell Slughorn that you're harassing me!" I pout, tugging on his arm so that my book raised high over his head lowers slightly. "Give it back. I'm younger than you by a year, and I'm a girl. Don't be such a bully."

He laughs mockingly but hands it back all the same, leaning against the slightly damp stone wall beside me. "And since when has that stopped you? I can quite clearly remember the vicious attack you made on me just last term! I'm surprised you didn't break my leg, you evil girl."

I sputter between my fingers, making extremely pig like noises as I snort. He makes me sound like the spawn of the devil, but I am truly not that bad. I just happened to-ah, well, let's just say it involved my kitten heeled shoe and a packet of Droobles Gum. He grins coyly and prods me slightly, nodding in direction of the dorms upstairs.

"Off you go then, Blissy. Run along, and I won't tell Ol' Sluggy on you; he'd have a fit if he knew one of his top students was out of bed," He says, patting me on the head like a dog. I shake him off furiously, my waves flying about wildly, fluttering against my shoulders.

"I do hope you're talking about yourself, Riddle."

His brow furrows in finality. "Go to bed, Bliss. Now."

I mutter under my breath unintelligibly and he flings out an arm to shove me, eyes glittering with amusement. "Alright, alright. For heaven's sake Tom; you can quite clearly see I'm going."

"If you have any hope of making the Quidditch team this year, you had best get your speed up." He slouches away, hands in pockets, lips twitching as he slumps down beside the fire, the flames tinging his pale skin orange. "Goodnight."

I half turn up the staircase, drawing my robe tighter over my nightdress. "Won't you be awful lonely if I go, Tom?"

He looks over his shoulder, smiling broadly. "You carry on believing that, m'dear." He pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes as he yawns like a cat. "Now, do go away, and get some sleep. It's the only thing that might help your scholastic endeavours."

"Why do you want me to go away so badly?"

His eyes open, wide and black, like bottomless pits. "I don't. You know you're my one true friend in this school, Blissy. I just, I just need time to think."

"Thinking time?" I wrinkle my nose and his lips curl upwards. "About what?"

The hand not running through his hair flickers to his pocket for a second but his eyes stay steady, threaded with mine. "I have quite a killer Potions presentation due tomorrow; I need to plan it out," He sighs, looking a little bedraggled. "You, however, are not helping."

"That's not very nice."

"It's true, though."

I watch him for a few seconds, slipping silently over to the slightly faded sofa he's sprawled out across, arm drawn across his eyes. "Are you alright, Tom?"

He lets out a puff of air. "I am quite fine, thank you."

I sit down next to him, nudging his legs out of the way. He moves them back across my lap automatically, face creased with a very small grin. "Sure?"

"Positive. Weren't you off to bed, anyway?"

I stifle a yawn, placing my book across his shins, open on the page marked with a strip of gold ribbon. "No, I don't think so."

He props himself up against the pillows, hot breath prickling my bare neck. "What are you reading?"

I turn the cover toward him, so that he can see the printed title across the front. "Biggest Book of Beasts. I'm on the b's, at the moment…" I flick through the pages until I come to the illustration of a large, mournful bird. "Did you know there's a creature called an Augurey? Who ever heard of such a thing?"

"How interesting," He drawls, though he leans closer so that his hair tickles my shoulder. "Isn't it an Irish Pheonix?"

I pull a face, covering my hand over the information. "You read that."

"I did not!" He grins into my hair, prodding me slightly. "It isn't my fault that I'm so spectacularly smart." He turns the page for me, back to the picture of an extremely large, coiled snake. His hand freezes as he reads the title, eyes wide. "Basilisk?"

I shrug, trailing my finger across the information. "I don't know how anyone can know what it looks like, considering it Petrifies anyone who sees it indirectly."

"Petrify?" He echoes in awe, looking enlightened to something or other. "You mean…"

I cock my head to the side to watch him. "It turns people to stone, yes. The Basilisk, also known as the King of Serpents, has the power to cause death with a single gaze. When it is indirectly seen, but still visible to the viewer, Petrification is caused. This Petrification can be cured by-" I stop short, narrowing my eyes. "Why are you so suddenly interested, might I ask? You made it quite clear you thought that this book was dull and drab."

"I didn't say that, now, did I?" He leans over the page, mouthing the words as he reads them. "I've just never even heard of this-this creature. Never."

"That's because you don't pay attention in Care for Magical Creatures," I say hotly, standing up abruptly so that he almost falls from the couch. Almost, but not quite. "I'm off to bed."

He eyes me incredulously. "Now you want to go? Why?"

"Because I'm tired." I stalk away, arms crossed as I trample up the spiralling staircase to my dormitory, feeling a bit flushed.

"You're tired?" He calls after me, dripping with sarcasm.

No, I think to myself, turning the polished handle as quietly as I can so as to not wake the sleeping girls curled up under clean, pressed sheets. But I saw that mad gleam in your eye, Tom Riddle, and that means no good.