CHAPTER THREE

One year later...

"Are you finished with the insults and vulgarities, Granger? I do not have all day to listen to you call me such viles names when I have been so gracious to elaborate on more advanced arithmantic hypotheses," drawled Riddle from his ridiculously overstuffed chair by the roaring fireplace.

I thought of another insult and watched his eyes flash, perfectly arched eyebrow raising ever so slightly at my choice of words. That was all the warning I received before I was on the ground screaming from his own version of a torture curse. It only lasted a few seconds, but yet again I had scratched my face and arms to shreds in that short amount of time. I knew he would leave a small jar of ointment for the scars after the wounds healed, but the fact that he was still using negative methods to mold me was a bit irritating. Positive reinforcement would prove far more successful, I thought, but this was Lord Voldemort. I doubted he knew what positive reinforcement was exactly.

It was hard to comprehend that it had been a year already. A year of research, and I still hadn't read even a quarter of the library. Everything I could have ever needed was magically provided. Meals of bread and fruits appeared three times a day. A pitcher of water or teapot floated around wherever I worked in the library for the day, pouring me water whenever my goblet or teacup was perilously low. An outfit was always hovering near the bathroom archway when I awoke for the day; always a dress, and always in a shade of green. After a bath or shower, my day started in the same routine as any other. I nibbled the food my prison provided as I looked over the ever changing list on the parchment Riddle had left that first day. The names of the books he wished me to read for research, and the list he wanted me to read along with instructions for the furthering of my education. He was teaching me what could be taught without use of a wand. The promise of a wand always hung in the air, but my obstinate disposition seemed to keep it out of my grasp. I was beginning to think he was counting on my inability to bite my tongue. He also kept my wand out of reach with other ridiculous excuses. I wasn't understanding the material well enough, or fast enough. My hair wasn't done, pulled back, in the way he preferred so he didn't have to look at it when I was in his presence. My fingers were too stained with ink, I should try to put more effort into not appearing so unkempt. His insults were always low, subtle and backhanded; specifically designed to cut me down in the hopes of breaking me. And his incessant maneuvering of a conversation, or argument, to trick me into revealing something he felt was important about the future. I didn't know why he bothered, he was gathering as much as he could just by slipping in and examining my thoughts. Until I figured out a way to thwart that sneaky bit of espionage. Now I just recited Hogwarts: A History in my head when he was around, and I wasn't absorbed in what material I was learning for the week.

I still didn't know what the purpose of me being here was, other than I was irritating him by not breaking under his intense teaching methods, or insults. Being angry by his sharp words was irritating to him. I wondered when he would try a different approach, but I highly doubted he thought another approach would be successful. He had such low opinions of me, still. Pompous git.

"I heard that, Granger," said Riddle as he twirled his wand between his fingers. "Get up and try to summarize the material again. I have already told you that I do not have all day. If you do not understand the concept, perhaps I should provide you with less challenging theories?"

"No," I said in reply, a little more forcefully than I probably should have, but he let it slide. Thank, Merlin. "I can do it."

"Then by all means," he made a motion with his hand, as if to say, 'please, prove me wrong.'

See? Bloody git, pain my arse.

"I heard that, too..."

Growling in irritation, I went back to the numbers and how to calculate them the 'Tom Riddle way.' The equations were beyond complex, 52 characters and 72 numbers to calculate a specific way to prove the theory, and even the theory was incredibly complicated. And if I was admitting it was complicated, it was downright impossible, but if Riddle had done it, so could I. There were quills lined up in front of the separate inkwells, red and black and green all waiting for a quill to be dipped in. I took up a fresh quill and selected green ink to start out my new attempt. I could feel Riddle staring at me as I concentrated on how to differentiate the variables, separating them just as he had told me. Him watching me wasn't as distracting as the sense that he wanted to comment on something. He wanted to speak, ask a question or inquire, but he was waiting for what he felt was the most consequential moment. I could feel it.

Switching to red ink after I finished the first half of the equation, I glanced up to see Riddle's eyes darkening as he watched me work. I was dividing the sum of the variables with the characters, sectioning the results out into two different columns for the next steps. It was horribly irritating to be watched, knowing he was going to trip me up any second. The third step from the last, he leaned back in his chair and began twirling his wand between his fingers. The second step from the last, he titled his head just ever so slightly to the side. As though he were thinking of something with slight amusement. And then he cleared his throat.

"Tell me, Granger," Riddle said, voice laced with enjoyment and curiosity. "How did it feel to be the best in your year, but trapped in Harry Potter's shadow and always under-appreciated?"

Bastard. Bloody, pain in my arse bastard. Git.

"Oh, I see I touched a nerve..."

Damn, I lost my place in the last step, I cursed internally.

Riddle smirked, still twirling his wand, "Start over, mudblood. I do not have all day to wait for you to understand this theory...Perhaps you should try to ignore your surroundings so you can focus properly?"

I'm going to kill him. And unlike Harry, I will actually succeed...