Dahlia

Dahlia sat at breakfast, slowly eating her food. She hadn't had much sleep the night before, probably due to the fact she had a paper she had to turn in for Charms. She pulled out her homework and saw the diary she had been writing in for the past few days. She pulled that out as well.

Good morning, Tom.

She turned her attention to her half-finished essay for class and began working on it, but her concentration kept wavering as she glanced at the book.

Hello, Dahlia. You are writing to me earlier today, aren't you?

It's breakfast time. I'm sitting alone so I thought I'd talk while I finished my charms paper. If that's all right with you, anyway.

Dahlia looked up from the diary. Why would she have needed his permission anyway? It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter…

Sure, I don't mind. But please make sure that you do sit alone when you talk to me. I doubt you would want another student to steal me or ask too many questions.

Dahlia glanced over at Eric, who was sitting at the Slytherin table. He was watching her intently. She wondered what annoying trick he was planning for the day, hoping that it wouldn't be too awful. What if he tried to steal the diary? What would happen if he realized that it was empty? Dahlia bit her lip. She was being way too paranoid.

I understand. There are some students who are too nosy.

She looked back up at Eric, who was still watching her.

Are you talking about Eric, by any chance?

Well... I wasn't being specific, but I guess you could assume that.

Dahlia wondered how the book knew things. It could figure out so much from only a little information. Her gut instincts told her she should be careful, but she just didn't seem to be able to put the book down.

Yes, I could.

There was a pause, and then Tom wrote again.

Sorry about that last thing I said; it came out wrong. Does that ever happen to you?

Dahlia wondered if the diary was trying to make a joke. If so, it didn't have a very good grasp of humor.

Quite often, however I'm going to be late for potions if I do not leave now.

"What's that?" asked an obnoxious voice from behind her. She slammed the book shut and put it into her bag. Standing up, she walked past Eric.

"Stop being so nosy!" she said, still walking. He followed her. "How long were you hovering there anyway?" Dahlia asked him, hoping he didn't notice anything.

"Long enough to see the ink in it vanish and you reply. Where did you get that book? It's not something you see often."

Dahlia turned and shoved him to the ground, surprised at herself for acting so violently. "Why don't you mind your own business?" she shouted before turning down the corridor that led to the dungeons.

Tom

Tom could feel his diary being slammed shut. His own copy of the book did the same, the hollow noise echoing against the walls of the common room. This new development worried him. Dahlia was far enough under his spell that she would never do something like that on purpose. No, she had a reason to leave him hanging. Someone must have noticed what she was doing. Someone like that boy named Eric she had mentioned... Tom doubted the boy was much of a threat, but he did not like the idea of anyone knowing about his existence.

He got up from his chair and paced in a circle around the room. It was cold in there, as usual, and confining. Years earlier, Tom had tried to create a larger area for himself to inhabit. As soon as he began to widen his horizons, the whole construct had collapsed around him, leaving him with only darkness. Tom didn't mind the dark, nor the cold, but both were terribly lonely. The irony of his situation struck him for the millionth time. When he was at Hogwarts, he had always tried to be left alone. Now he had his wish, and then some, but he was still not satisfied.

He walked over to the fireplace and pulled a wand out of his back pocket. "Incendio", he whispered. As usual, the fire did not light. "Incendio." His tone was louder, more commanding. "INCENDIO!" he roared, and a spark flickered to life. Tom allowed himself a brief moment of surprise and contentment; he had never managed to light the fireplace before. Then he realized the reason for his triumph. The fire was drawing on the strength he had gained from Dahlia, draining his reserves.

Tom quickly doused the flame and sat back down in his usual chair. He should have known...

Nothing, in any world, was free.