Me: Yay for Chapter Two! Aren't you excited, Tom? This is the thick of your romance!

Tom: *growls* *disappears*

Me: Tom? Tooommmy... where'd you - oh!

Tom: *reappears with Basilisk* EAT BASILISK VENOM!

Me: *sigh* You never learn. *whistles to Basilisk* Come here, Fluffy! Come here! Who's a good Basilisk? You are! *scratches Basilisk on the nose*

Tom: *facepalm*

Disclaimer: Do not own Tom (execpt in my own mind), Amortentia, Tom's weird thinking, or lovey dovey-ness. Of course, I DO own Melany, her Tree and her blossoms. So NO TOUCHEY!

Tom's Story: Love's Riddle

Tom had, again, been walking the halls on Prefect duty. The sharp click of his well-kept shoes echoed through the halls. On this particular walk he encountered a Third year couple, who blanched and ran when they saw him. Riddle smirked, but was not surprised.

He had mastered the technique of intimidation. Of course, he hadn't always had his reputation. Tom had earned every scrap of it. It started with the walk that was now second nature. The impressive balance between a confident stride and a lethal stalk. It captured people's attention, made them clear the way, as if he was royalty. Then the air that made people feel that he was more mysterious and possibly more dangerous than even the pompous Malfoy family. It made people look away before he did, made them obey his commands. It let them know that he was greater than they, and he never dropped it.

Well, almost never dropped it.

So Tom was stalking down a hall that was filled with unused classrooms (rumored to be haunted) when an odd sound reached his ears. He stopped in his tracks and cocked his head to listen. It was… music. Singing, actually. Somewhere behind him, perhaps just around the corner.

He contemplated his next move. Did he really care enough to go investigate? On the other hand, he was a Prefect on duty, and it was almost curfew. No one should be wandering the halls, much less singing in them. Then there was always the fact that if it wasn't a Slytherin (highly likely; Slytherins don't typically sing in empty castle halls) he would have the chance of deducting points from another House. (Hopefully Goody-Goody Gryffindor).

His lip curled in a leer as he considered further. Of course, if it happened to be a Mudblood…well, he hadn't had fun in a while.

Thus decided, Tom turned on his heel and strode purposefully in the opposite direction. He listened to the voice as it got steadily louder, and realized that she - the voice was undeniably feminine - wasn't just singing. In fact, it was more like she was singing to herself, really. Not really caring what she sounded like or if she hit the right notes. She would laugh in between verses, lapse into silence, start humming again, then singing. Once or twice she tried to hit a high note, and laughed at herself when it sounded shaky. She had a pretty voice, even though it was not really amazing. She was switching from song to song, seemingly at random, but what she was singing at the moment was a lullaby that obviously fit her voice very well.

He came to an intersection, and he went right. He was almost on her now, but he didn't see anyone in the halls. She must've been in one of the rooms.

Tom slowed his brisk walk to quiet creeping, zeroing in on the room the voice was coming from.

The mystery girl inside gave a contented sigh and began humming a tune. She really did have a pretty voice. It would probably be even better if she took it seriously…

Tom shook his head and stood straight, arranging his face in his stony mask that no one could penetrate. He turned the knob of the door and pushed it open, but was so shocked at what he saw that, behind his mask, he was gaping.

A straight-haired brunette had her back to him, humming and waving her wand around like a conductor's wand. Her black school robes (bearing the emblem and colors of Ravenclaw) were discarded to the left of the door, as were her sock and shoes. She was standing bear foot, tapping her feet and orchestrating some magic that he'd never seen the like before.

In front of the girl was… a shimmering golden tree. She was dancing around it and laughing and humming, waving her wand in symbols that made it grow, or made it shimmer, or even made it emit a melody from a blossoming flower. It was golden and semi-transparent, like sunlight compacted into one space. The room was bathed in it's sunny glow like it was daylight and multiple windows were open… except it was dark outside, and though the classroom had no windows, the ceiling was charmed to like the outdoors world.

As she laughed again and twirled her wand, the tree stretched and shivered as if waking from sleep. It began moving its limbs slowly and fluidly, as if it were dancing with her. As she was dancing he saw her face, and noted that she was in his Arithmancy, Potions, and Transfiguration class. She was also very intelligent, even for Ravenclaw standards. It wasn't just her book smarts either. Even he had noticed out of the corner of his eye the wise and understanding look that often took over her face when she was talking to someone. Or the way she conducted herself when she conversed with the teachers. She spoke to them as if she considered them equals, and at the same time did not lack a student's respect. He also noticed that she always smiled the brightest and her eyes always shone the most in Transfigurations - Dumbledore's class.

So distracted was he in observing the room and reminding himself of her character that he allowed himself to be seen.

"Oh!" she momentarily stopped in her magic making, and the tree suddenly stood still and seemed to wonder why her attention was no longer on it. "Hullo."

Tom grimaced inwards, but his face was still stony to the girl. One may wonder why he was not happy that he had been seen, since it was his goal after all to speak to (and deduct house points from) her. The reasoning behind Tom Riddle's plan was to make her see him, so that she and only she was caught off guard. So in an instance where he had counted on having the upper hand, he was now on equal terms of shock with his prey.

He decided not to answer her greeting and cut to the chase.

"You do realize that it is now past curfew, Miss Piper?" he drawled, fixing her with his penetratingly cold stare.

It took a moment for her to respond, but when she did, it was a completely unexpected one. Her face broke out into a bright smile.

"It's alright, Tom," she answered, speaking as if she knew him well. It annoyed him immediately.

"I have permis - ,"

"First of all I insist you call me by my surname as I am a Prefect. Secondly, do you have written proof of your permission?" he sneered, cutting her off effectively.

She stared at him in surprise at his evident chillness, but regained herself in a moment. Pulling a piece of parchment with Headmaster Dupit's handwriting on it, she stepped toward him. After handing the slip to him, she retreated a step and her smile returned.

"As I was saying, Mr. Riddle, I have permission from the Headmaster. This," she gestured proudly to the golden tree, which in answer shuffled it's branches as if to preen itself, "This is my project. Isn't it amazing? I'm not exactly sure what to call it though…"

She trailed off, staring at what appeared to be her own creation. Tom hated to admit it, but he was impressed. It must have taken some upper-class talent of magic to make something so incredible.

He found himself asking, perhaps trying to sound haughty, "And what is it supposed to do?"

Piper put her hand on her chin, looking thoughtfully at her tree.

"You know, I'm not quite sure. For me, it just makes me happy and open. I think it has a different effect on everyone. It will be perfect for the job I have…" she paused, then continued with a fresh smile, "Hold on for a second."

Piper sauntered back over to her creation, and as she approached the tree seemed to have an excited air about it. She began to hum quietly again, and she waved her wand in wide swoops. At once the tree began to shiver, and he could have sworn he heard it humming back. It seemed to imitate Piper by waving its branches in arches. Tom wasn't sure what was so special until the tree began to erupt in leaves and flowers, filling it with color and a new brightness. The leaves were like none he had ever seen; some were golden with red-gold undersides, some were vibrant green with golden veins and edges; the flowers were delicate looking and beautiful, pink with red tips, or cream and yellow. It continued to wave its branches so that the lush growth made a shushing noise. Piper laughed again and put her hands up to catch petals and leaves that were gracefully floating and falling off the tree's branches.

"Isn't that wonderful! I think she's complete now." she smiled, satisfied, and placed her hands on her hip.

It took Tom a moment to get used to the smell of blossoms that had spread throughout the room. It made him feel… odd. Like he just wanted to close his eyes and forget all his worries, all the daily games he played with peoples' minds. He just wanted to forget and bask in the tree's sunlight and the smell of spring.

But the feeling faded in a moment when he realized that he was still in the presence of this strange witch. It occurred to him that he didn't know if she was a Mudblood or not. He tried to think again, looking for something in what little she had said to him that would give him some leverage on her. After a few moments of pretending to be enraptured with the tree (or only half-pretending), he remembered something.

"You said that this tree would be perfect for your job. What exactly did you mean by that?" he asked, sounding as unaffected as possible. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing he had.

She smiled fondly at the tree again, which seemed to be growing brighter and more solid-looking. She turned her face to him and seemed to inspect him for a few moments. There was a glint in her eye that he had rarely seen directed at him before - a kind of mischievous glint. Suddenly, she skip-stepped towards him, and it took all his will power not to jerk away or betray his surprise. Leaning towards him, she whispered.

"It's supposed to be a secret, but for some reason I want to tell you," she tapped her nose twice, "Professor Dumbledore helped me convince Headmaster Dupit to give me a teaching job after graduation. But!-" Piper smiled conspiringly, "Not just any teaching job, either. I'm going to be Professor of the Fine Arts of Magic."

Tom blinked once, somewhat confused. What was special about the Fine Arts? In that case, what exactly were they?

Piper smiled kindly, and took one step back. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. The smell of her shampoo had begun to waft under his nose, and it made him strangely uncomfortable. He didn't dwell on the fact.

The playful mischief was gone from her eyes, replaced by sparkling kindness.

"I can see that you're puzzled. Well, I think I can solve this."

And without warning she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the tree. After whistling a quick tune, branches snaked their way down like vines and wrapped around them, swiftly pulling them into the heart of the tree. Tom was shocked, and also found himself amazed that the tree was solid enough to touch. He half expected himself to fall through it. But he only felt the strange sense of being completely secure and… something else. Joy? No, that was when he triumphed and got his way. Happiness? He didn't think so…

But he ceased to contemplate when he felt something, almost like a presence, sinking into him. It was calming and…

Loving, a voice whispered in his mind. Loving…

Loving? That was impossible. There was no such thing…

Then a strange sort of music filled his mind, and it chased his thoughts away once more. He found that he couldn't resist closing his eyes, even though he knew he shouldn't let this girl see behind his mask. Even still, he was glad he did. Colors swirled and burst in his mind's eye, blooming and sparkling and breathtaking. The colors and figures formed and danced in time to the music that was playing in his head. Different textures, different blends of hues, scenes so serene and lovely forming just for him. He'd never experienced something like this, and he wished it would never stop. He could listen to that tree's music forever and not worry about his revenge against his father or proving Dumbledore wrong…

Alas, he was startled, opening his eyes when he felt something soft brush his face. They were the petals, soft and enchanting, twining through the air like a first snow. Through a curtain of them he stared at Melany Piper, who had her eyes closed, a beaming smile on her lips, face uplifted and arms raised above her head as if to embrace the wonders of the that magnificent Tree.

A very strange thing happened at that moment. Tom Riddle laughed. It began as a disbelieving chuckle and slowly progressed into a full on laugh. There was a part of his mind that was screaming at him that he was insane and that he needed to erase this girl's memory right now and simply forget that this night ever happened. But that voice was drowned out by the lilting tunes of the Tree and Melany's laughter combined with his. Even the Tree seemed to be laughing, a tinkling sound like bells. Melany looked across at Tom, her eyes wide and surprised, and her mouth still grinning. She laughed once more, and he suddenly had the sensation of being connected to her somehow. Something clicked into place and he realized a strange urge that he'd never experienced before.

Kiss her. It was the Tree's voice, whispering in his mind. Kiss her? He couldn't. He barely knew her. It was irrational…

But the Tree had other ideas. Those magical branches suddenly gave a lurch, pushing him toward that amazing girl. He barely caught himself, one of his hands instinctively grabbing a branch just behind the girl's head. The other hand landed somewhere closer to her waist.

Tom sucked in a breath and impulsively looked at Melany's face to gauge her reaction. She looked just as surprised as he did, but her pink lips were separated and there was a new sparkle in her eyes…

That was when Tom Riddle, the boy who didn't believe in love, took the Tree's advice. He leaned in and softly captured Melany Piper's lips with his.

He was overwhelmed with new emotion. His heart was beating furiously and the heat rushed to his head. The hand that had previously been by the girl's waist now found its way to her neck, cradling the back of her head and bringing her closer. Her lips under his responded with their own pressure, and he was so stunned by this that he drew back a little. Yet, when he drew back, she came forward, and continued the sweet kiss. He found that his eyes closed by themselves, almost as if his body knew more about this than his mind did (which was probably true). Tom felt Melany's hands rest on his chest, and was astounded for the hundredth time that evening when he didn't care if she felt his heartbeat. Then again, maybe it was because hers was just as fast as his.

A moment later, and a moment too soon they parted and he slowly opened his eyes. The blossom petals were still falling, decorating this remarkable girl with the remarkableness of her Tree. As her own eyes blinked open and a tentative smile formed on her kissed lips, Tom found that he felt as though he were soaring. He grinned and felt like laughing, and he had forgotten all about the old stony Tom Riddle. Even as he embraced the girl in front of him, taking in the scent of blossoms and her shampoo which had somehow made him uncomfortable earlier, he knew that if he were to make Amortentia the next day in potions it would be that smell.

But then a clock gonged Twelve somewhere in the castle, and just like in any fairy tale, the spell was broken. Somewhat. She still smiled at him, even as he told her that he should be getting back to the Slytherin Tower. The Tree was still as gentle as ever in letting them down, and their fingers were curled around each other all the way to the classroom door. Melany gave him a shy smile and pecked him on the cheek before he left, and he promised to see her tomorrow. As he was walking back to the Slytherin Boy's Dormitory, he found it funnily ironic how this love thing... it seemed like such a riddle. Riddle's Love Riddle. He smirked and touched his lips. A riddle indeed.

It was the end of that magical night, and even though he fell asleep with a smile on his face, in the morning the old Tom Riddle was waiting. He did not see Melany the next day, or at least did not in the way that he'd meant. He ignored her for every smile she gave him and every meaningful look. He walked fast in the corridors, especially whenever he passed a group of Ravenclaws. His scowl was deeper than ever and the boys he usually gathered around him stayed clear of him all day. Tom Riddle may have been fooled once into believing in love, but he would not again.

Still, even though he had told himself that love did not exist, chanting it in his head like a mantra, he made sure to steer clear of a certain room with a certain Tree, where the blossoms were light and lovely.