A/N: OMG, I fell off the fucking map, didn't I? Damn you, Midterms! Damn you to hell! ... Ahem... Well, now that's over, I can get to the thank you's. THANK YOU! That was for soup4mepapi for reviewing (I'm glad you love this as much as I love writing it) and my adders! Keep it up, guys. You give me inspiration. Now, here's chapter siete and I have to say that the reason it took me longer than usual to post this beside the blaspheming midterms is because I was writing more to this chapter and then I realized it was wayyyy too effin long - even I lost my attention span reading it. So, I chopped it in half. =) Now, in this chapter... hmmm... Riddle gets a little comfy... That's it! No more shall pass these fingertips! You must read to find out more! Enjoy and you know all the other shit too. ;)


Time Will Tell

By: NY GE Pyromaniac

Chapter Seven: Timeless Traditions – Part One


"Men talk of killing Time while Time quietly kills them." – Dion Broucicault


"Thalia!" Emily exclaimed excitedly and very loudly over the chatter and clatter of dinnertime in the Great Hall. Glee painted over her oval shaped face, she nudged Eliot in the side to make him look up from his plate. A smile broke the stubbornly pissed off set of his usually serene face and he waved me over too. Mike sat there with them but busy talking to someone to the left so he didn't notice when I sat down to his right.

"Hey," I greeted them smilingly albeit a bit breathlessly. I'd run straight here from the Hospital Wing when Madame Marche had let me out just in time for dinner.

"You look loads better," he commented over his steak and kidney pie.

"Loads," she agreed, nodding. I hadn't noticed it as I entered the Hall, but now that I sat this close to her, I noticed the glassiness of her eyes and the pink around the edges as if she'd just yawned or felt sleepy. It struck me as odd – the girl stood notorious for annoying the crap out of me by nine-ish to go to sleep already – but her own bubbly excitement and Eliot's friendly aura held more power over me than that particular detail just then. Part of me seemed a bit cheeky about the fact that I'd spent all of, what, twenty-four hours without them and not exactly lonely per se, but I'd missed them all like crazy. The other more mature side of me took note of that and wondered why any part of me would feel shocked by that.

"I feel loads better. Listen, guys, I have to tell you – it's so weird but kind of cool." I jumped straight into babble mode about breakfast and lunch, recounting to them about everything save for the memories or how they applied to my so-called plan. That remained off limits even to parts of my own mind for my own mental safety.

"Yeah, we thought something like that might happen," Eliot said when I'd finished, nodding and scoffing as he glared over his shoulder to most likely the Slytherin table. He turned his bitterly sneering eyes back to meet my gaze and continued: "We thought he was just being polite coming back yesterday because of the way you came here – you know, him helping you then as well – but we didn't expect another visit let alone two more." He obviously felt more than just a bit annoyed and his face slowly returned to its previous stubbornly pissed of set.

Emily just glared at the empty plate in front of me and it occurred to me then that I'd already sat there for at least ten or fifteen minutes and Mike had yet to even notice me. I mean, okay, he still seemed busy talking, but the guy could give a quick "hey" and go back to his conversation, right? I'd missed him too. But that didn't bother me as much as trying to figure out what had happened with Eliot and Emily.

"Are you guys alright?" I asked, glancing at the three of them in turn. Mike still had his back to me, Eliot had his fist balled up on the table and it twitched ever so slightly, and Emily's eyes grew shinier and more red-rimmed. She looked about ready to cry – had already cried, it clicked. "What's wrong?" I demanded of them, very worried now. Had they fought with Mike? Did that stand as his reason for not talking to any of us?

Eliot's eyes flicked to Mike's back and then a point past me to stare determinedly there. "Nothing, it's stupid."

I sucked my teeth and smacked the table, frustrated. "That's stupid. What. Is. It?" I asked, ignoring the glare he gave me when Emily flinched a bit at the noise I'd made. I felt beyond irritated then and no, not because I turned metiche* or nosy, as they say. I genuinely worried. "What the hell?" I demanded once more and banged again, feeling quite like a child…or perhaps a frustrated mother? I didn't have too much time to process that before Mike turned finally and spoke.

"They've been arguing over you and Riddle," he said, fixing me with the mother of all glares.

Yeah, those are definitely Pansy's eyes. Blinking in surprised response, I leaned back a bit from him. I could feel that invisible drill he bore into me. "What? Why? Wh-?"

"Oh, come on, Thalia!" he cut me off. "D'you really expect us to believe he was just making sure you were okay?" His usually soft and tranquil blue eyes looked like two hard and cold sapphires stuck into his angrily contorted and blotchily red face. "He wouldn't give a shit if you dropped dead let alone go to visit you twice in one day to make sure you recovered from a fainting spell!" His voice had risen and he yelled now with the whole of Gryffindor table staring at him, some with open mouths.

"That's enough, Mike," Eliot hissed, his nostrils flaring and his caramel eyes ablaze.

Mike rounded on him as if about to lay into him, but seemed to have thought better of it when his eyes fell on the pale form of Emily sort of leaning toward Eliot as if trying to protect him. He sneered and threw another nasty look my way before swinging his legs over the bench and murmuring, "Fine. It's her life, anyway." With that, he stalked off toward the marble staircase.

I sat there, rooted to the spot. Shock froze my every muscle it seemed, my nerve endings – I couldn't feel a thing other than surprise. This went past just how he'd yelled. Please, like yelling does that shit to me anymore. No, it came for everything he'd said. It didn't take a bloody genius to figure out what he meant to convey and who he meant to reveal as having the same theory painted on them between Eliot and Emily. And I couldn't truthfully say that I thought him wrong at the same time – my moral compass would probably explode with a lie that runs so deep into my instincts. But so many other factors played into my defiance apart from the hurt I felt at his words: "it's her life anyway." It isn't that simple.

Swallowing the lump that had grown in my throat and nodding slowly in acceptance of the whole mess, silently promising to leave it this way – to not go after him (he'd left, not I), I shifted stiffly in my seat to Eliot and Emily.

"Thali," he said softly, gently placing his hand atop mine on the table right next to a jug of pumpkin juice.

I inhaled deeply and flashed the biggest smile I could, which also turned out a pretty pathetic attempt, but it got the message across, I guess. "It's okay. I get it and I get that you feel the same way." Exhaling the breath in a heavy sigh, I shook my head and continued: "But it changes nothing."

He nodded and nudged Emily in the side softly. "I told you it wouldn't matter. Please don't cry anymore, love."

She wiped at her eyes with the sleeves of her robes, nodding and letting her face part into a watery smile. "I know and I'm sorry I got so stubborn," she said, leaning into his shoulder. "I just felt you two were being unfair to Tom."

He nodded resignedly and said, "I know. But what matters is Thalia and she says nothing changes. We should just support her and maybe talk to Mike…maybe."

She grimaced, but nodded. "We'll see what happens. He took it hardest, Thalia, that you let Riddle even speak to you again and now this truce of yours." She sighed, picking up her fork again. "I don't think he'll forgive her – mainly because she never realized how he felt." She and Eliot exchanged superiorly informed looks.

He nodded, agreeing and sighed. "It's not her fault, though. With so many things going on in her life right now, how can she take his attitude as anything more than just friendly?" He gave me a pitying look. "She doesn't know him well enough to know how he courts."

I half groaned-half whimpered. "I was afraid of that," I murmured and took a sip of my juice to ease the bubbles that had begun to churn in my stomach.

Emily shrugged while Eliot scoffed. "What can you do?" they both asked.

Another groan escaped my throat and I swung my legs over the bench to stand. "I'm going for a walk. See you guys later."

"'Bye," they called forlornly after me.

Once I'd made my way out of the Great Hall with minimal stares and glares just because the Gryffindor table stood closest to the marble staircase and not the other House tables, I took on a deliberately slow pace and forced my legs to drag and lag as I made my way through the castle. I didn't really watch where I walked (I walked right through Nearly Headless Nick), but that didn't much matter. The snide, rude and honest side of my mind argued with the rest of me…and had a winning argument. Most of me wanted to find, apologize for my blindness and try to make things between us light and easy again – try to make shit right. But the snide side wanted to widen the wound and then pour salt right into it by finding Mike, apologizing, batting my eyelashes at him and then finding Riddle and kissing him in front of Mike. My snide side was a real bitch…and a crazy bitch at that.

Scoffing, I walked right around the corner of the corridor I'd treaded and saw the library. "Fuck!" I whispered to myself, remembering an essay I had due for Slughorn's class in a couple of days. "Ugh, might as well," I told myself, trudging in and over to the Potions and Alchemy aisle. It seemed simple enough, the assignment: a foot of parchment on the Draught of Living Death – properties, effects and shit like that. The question about the antidote turned out a trick question – easy enough to know from the fucking name (plus Slug gives himself away a lot), so I knew I'd get done quickly. I just got too lazy. But, sighing, I went to work on searching for any reference book, just to have a reference and not seem Darker than I already did here.

The soft murmur of students supposedly doing homework and/or studying surrounded me as I searched the aisle, letting my previous thoughts battle one another again in the back of my mind. A different part of it, though, had come to the forefront, right behind the semi-focused part that scanned titles, to watch the battling thoughts and to tear itself between laughing and crying. Laughing at the ridiculous idea that my bitch side had come up with of kissing Riddle and crying because I still didn't know whether I, as a whole, wanted the past to repeat itself. Did that shit even count as the past? If you can remember it, it does, the bitch in me chimed. Maybe she wasn't so much a bitch as a realist?

Sighing in a frustration, I shut out all the other parts of my mind that had not focused on titles of books so I could concentrate. I needed to get this done. As stupid as it sounds, I still need to worry about my grades. Why? Easy. I still don't know exactly how much time I will have to spend here – how long the circuit lasts. I need to prepare to stay as a student for a long time. Most of all I need to keep up with Riddle and his courses. So, never mind people dying somewhere in 1997. No, phooey with them. I needed O's in everything….

Turning into the next aisle, and mentally preparing to not vomit when I saw the next redundantly useless title, I spotted a powerful enabler of procrastination: Black, Malfoy and Nott all huddled together at a table toward the west end, heads bent over an old book and some parchment, whispering to each other. I stood there a moment, in the dividing aisle between the rows of shelves, debating on whether to go and take my frustrations out on them (they are most likely part of the reason why Riddle didn't want to tell me what people thought he was doing while he visited me) or to just continue my fruitless search on an unneeded reference. As if I really had a choice.

Narrowing my eyes like a hunter stalking its prey, I took exactly one half of a step toward the trio of Darkness back there before a soft snicker set my nerve endings ablaze with warnings and chills. Ah, the contrasting effects of that sound – don't you love it? …Shoot me. Shoot me now! Why the fuck did I know that sound so well already? I suppressed a shiver or a cringe or something kept trying to escape my very center and turned to face the owner of the blasphemous noise. My jaws and fists clenched tight, I just glared into the pale, smirking face of the raven-haired Prefect who leaned against the side of a shelf, a book in his right hand. "What's so funny?" I pushed through my gritted teeth when I trusted myself enough to not yell.

His smirk only broadened as he straightened up and nodded once in the direction of his friends. "They're just a few of those who speculated correctly. They'll eat you alive."

I gave a defiant, "Puh-lease," and folded my arms across my chest, putting my weight on one leg in a nonchalantly defiant pose. "I can take care of myself."

His smirk still firmly in place, he shook his head. "That's not part of the truce. Friends don't let friends drive drunk."

"You mother – I'm neither drunk nor driving."

He shrugged most arrogantly. "It's the same difference when it comes to you. You'll end up in the Hospital Wing either way." Narrowing my eyes in response to this bit of unwarranted verbal shanking and even growling only made him laugh out loud.

"You've got jokes, huh, Riddle?" I accused over his peels of soft laughter.

He stopped laughing but kept smiling and stepped forward, stealthily taking my right hand in his left. "Would you like me to accompany you to your social death?"

Another growl and I yanked his hand with me as I turned and set off for the three boys. But about two steps away, I felt him pull me back or rather, I got held back when he didn't budge. Frustrated and getting angrier by the minute, I spun back around on my heel to face him. How dare he keep me from proving that I could handle his little friends…even when his presence would only make it that much harder to do so? But my anger somewhat dissipated at the sight of his proud smile. "What?" I asked a bit stupidly. Nice one…. Callate**.

"I'm sorry. I was a bit too hard on you, wasn't I? But you made your point and most valiantly, might I add." he said softly, eyes scanning my face once more.

I cocked an eyebrow confusedly and asked, "Hard on me?"

He nodded. "I was only teasing you because I knew you'd be going to see about what they'd been saying earlier, but it seems I've made you angry with me." He finished off still smiling albeit a bit sadly.

I rolled my eyes. "Riddle, you're so sensitive." I sighed. "I guess I am too. Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that. I knew you were just teasing. I guess old habits die hard." I tried at a bit of lame and corny humor and got a happier smile from him. I smiled too.

"I'd be sensitive too if the first news I received out of the Wing was news that my dunderhead of a friend has a crush on me," he shanked, letting my hand slide from his and setting off at a fast pace toward the east end, turning quickly before I could catch up to him.

I huffed but laughed as I ran to catch up. "You heard that?"

"Every word, Espinoza," he drawled stepping lithely past empty seats and tables toward the south wall and eyeing my attempts to keep up with him. Now, I'm not one of those girls that claim total ditziness – because I'm not. Let's be honest. I will never take up ballet, but I fare okay. I kept up sort of well with his litheness. "Here," he finally said, stopping at the back wall where an empty table stood right next to the Restricted Section. "You talk and write and I'll be your diary and proof reader." He laid the book he held down on the table (Ancient Runes I guessed from the symbols on the cover) and pulled out the chair closest to the wall.

I scoffed, walking to him and lowering myself in as he gestured for me to do, and said, "How'd you know I still needed to do something?"

Smirking, he sat in the seat next to me and said, "You're not the type to be in here unless you really need to be."

My eyes narrowed. "And you are?"

He merely flicked his wand and made parchment, ink and a quill appear in front of me. "Write and tell me what is it exactly that your friends think I'll be trying to do to you with this truce?"

I sighed, pulling the materials toward me. Here we go. "I don't know," I lied. "Part of me thinks that this is just old habits dying hard – Slytherin versus Gryffindor – a big part of me is wishing for that more like it." I scribbled down a short intro before continuing on with my rant. "But Mike…ugh!"

"Hmmm, I suppose I'd say the same thing," he drawled a bit more than just sarcastically.

I gave him a pleading look. "Be nice…please?" I really didn't have the energy just then to keep up with his sarcasm as well as my own, bullshit an essay and mull through my own confusion on how to approach the Mike thing. Well, not really confusion. More like reluctance, I guess…. I really just didn't want anyone to know how right even I saw them about mine and Riddle's truce. "I don't know what to do," I said, feeling myself caving. But I recovered almost painfully quickly. "I mean, I could care less if any of them likes you or not." His brows quirked ever so slightly but nothing else reflected that he took that as anything more than face value so I continued. "I just wish he didn't make such a big deal out of it…."

Heaving a bored sigh, he leaned back into his chair. "You've never been in a relationship or even gone beyond just liking someone's face, have you, Thalia?" He eyed me from the corner of his eye in an almost arrogant way and I knew immediately that he meant to suggest that I've only ever like him or something close to that.

I sucked my teeth. "Don't be so cocky, Riddle, and…n-no not really, no."

His brows pulled together in mock confusion as he asked, "Cocky about what?" I started to answer him, but he pushed on. "Anyway, maybe you've never looked deeper than the surface in any potential partner, but your friend sure seems to have done so. He likes who you are, Espinoza, as a person." He shifted to face me completely and continued. "Before, he would never say much about you admiring me from afar because it was just that – from afar. But when he saw that you weren't kicking me out of that Wing, apology hanging from my mouth, he broke. How is he to compete?" I let a low rumble escape my throat as a warning for him to not go there, but he just kept going. "He already knows you like my face, Thalia; now imagine his poor little heart when he realized that we have the ability to cross boundaries that don't exist."

I grimaced. "But why? He can have any girl here. Why pick the only idiot with poor taste?" I aimed my emphasis on the last two words specifically at his assholeyness just then.

He just scoffed. "It's different for you – you're over me. You can't understand the disillusion of seeing the one who became special get close to another."

Part of me wanted to protest. Of course I knew that kind of disillusion and he'd put me through it. But in another life, for another temptress than a woman and for another reason. "I guess not…" But he wouldn't off that easily. All his picking on Mike came to a head and that head indicated that Riddle knew a thing or two about this kind of sentiment…this disillusionment as well. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

I don't know why the side of me that had really already accepted the fact that I have a crush-thing on Riddle kept thinking that he'd react differently than dictated by his own mannerisms, but, of course, nothing had changed. I'd expected him to maybe scoff or show some kind of defensiveness. But no, nothing. "It's all observation. My lack of pursuits should have told you that."

I scoffed half in the sheer amusement and half in disbelief. "Never? Not once have you ever liked a girl?"

He flashed a sly smile and nodded. "I've liked girls – a lot. But not in the way he likes you. It's more in the way you liked me."

I'd started scratching through a couple of bullshitted paragraphs, but at that comment threw the quill down, having had enough. "Get over yourself, Tom. You're not that hot – I didn't even notice your face until I passed out, which should tell you something."

"So what did you ask me out for?" He still fucking smirked, this prick. He loved getting under my skin.

"Pssh! Are you seriously fishing for a compliment?" I asked incredulously and turned to face him.

He laughed a single "Ha!" before explaining, "Thalia, I know you've seen what surrounds me, we've covered this already – how you stand out from the other girls. I only ask, not because I have some self-esteem issues and need you to stroke my ego, but because I know there's more to it than looks for you. I'm just curious, if you must know," he finished off, turning and leaning back into his seat, keeping his eyes on me.

I sneered slightly but laughed, amused. "Okay, if you're so curious and must know…" I hesitated. Did I really want to even lie about this? I mean, I'd aimed for authenticity, no? The truth could actually help me here. "…it was your form of being. Even when we first met, you caught things that not even I could catch – you kept a clear head in a situation where most would probably freak out and…" I flashed my eyes up to meet his, nervous…scared even. This part I'd kept hidden even from myself because I knew the truth in it would shatter something in me. I feared for my own identity. "…when you even used those bits you caught to try to get information out of me – cornered me, basically – all I could think was 'wow…that has to be a record of some kind.'"

He didn't quite smirk anymore but he didn't look serious or angry either. He looked intrigued to the best of my observation.

I continued: "You learn so quickly. You pick things up even when they're not there – I've seen you do it in class and it…it amazes me, honestly." And with that bit of truth now out in the open, a part of me did shatter. Not my identity or my soul. No, the part of me that wanted to throw up when I thought of this crush-thing turned to finely ground powder under the weight of this. Huh…funny…. What the fuck just happened? I scoffed, even more scared and covered up that fear. "But, like you said, I'm over you," I said, picking up the quill again and scribbling some more BS down.

He laughed. "You should give your friend some lessons. He got cheeky with me when we ran into each other on my way here."

I grimaced over my conclusion and he continued. "Don't worry. I was kind." He smirked.

An unsure grimace as my immediate response preceded a whispered, "Thanks." I finished off the essay, pushed it away from me and shifted in my chair so that I now leaned against the wall and my knees at chin level, my forearms resting atop them limply. "We knew this would happen."

He nodded. "We did." Turning again to me, his face the mask of stoicism, he said, "I'm perfectly fine with your friends not trusting me. The truce was for you and me, not for them. But if this is too much stress for you and you feel too torn – "

I just rolled my eyes and let my head fall back as I released the most frustrated growl yet. "No. I'm fine – I really am. I never led anyone on," I sneered, lifting my head back up to look him in the eyes. "I never took anything for more than it was or hinted at anything. I shouldn't feel guilty and I won't. Besides, Mike said it, it's my life…and…and Emily and Eliot are still there for me – they understand…. He could too, but he's too stubborn."

"Birds of a feather," he said airily, pulling the parchment to himself and turned right in his chair, reading.

"Unlike you and your friends," I shot back.

Snickering, he asked, "What do you mean? You're just as smart as I am."

"And the three blind mice back there?" I jerked my hand in their general direction.

A muscle jumping once in his jaw, he turned to me thoughtfully. "It's a bit of what your Emily and Eliot have with you, I think." He smirked at the confused set of my face and explained, "Black is smart – sharp as a tack – and Malfoy, too. Nott has his moments as does everyone I associate with. But I'll be the first to tell you that they can all be a bit thick."

That didn't help much and I just looked at him even more confusedly. "Emily and Eliot aren't thick," I uttered defensively.

He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Those three would eat you alive if left to their own devices. But they're not so thick as to try such a thing now that they know of our truce. Don't get me wrong, they're not as keen as you and I are to play nice, but they'll try – just like Emily and Eliot."

I nodded, understanding and shrugged. "I guess I would have made quite an ass out of myself if I'd gone over there, guns blazing, huh?"

His face scrunched up slightly as if he'd tasted something sour or bitter and he said, "That wouldn't be my choice of words, but yes, quite," and turned stiffly back to the parchment.

My brows pulled together, suspicion leaking into my expression. "What would be your choice of words exactly?" I asked bitingly, thinking he'd finally broken his mold of perfection and decided to pass sarcastic and go straight into rude.

He looked at me from the corner of his eye and something seemed to dawn on him. He sighed. "Not what you think, Thalia. I don't use that language and especially not with a lady – odd as she may be. I meant to convey or at least to accept your rougher expression while conveying that it doesn't quite match your appearance."

I just blinked. "What?"

But he shook me from a very dangerous train of thought that had begun by saying, "This is very well done. I'm impressed," and turning his attention back to the parchment.

Blinking again to pull away from the thoughts that wanted to pull me into unknown territory, I muttered my thanks and leaned back against the wall again. And I just watched him. I had no idea what had happened to me. I tried making a mental checklist to see if I'd kept on trackl. Observe Riddle: squiggly line for In Progress; Befriend him: check; Plan: N/A – memories still needed. Fuck. I thought of the tiny hourglass that rested against my chest and wondered how much of the sand would rest in the bottom half by now. How fast could it spill? When would the rest of my memories return? Would they? Yeah, Dumbledore had said they would but how could he know if he himself had said that this had never happened before? I didn't even know how long this loop went on or when I'd get sent home. Would I have time to deter Riddle? Would I need to?

That's really dangerous territory, you. Don't even think of holding back on him. You strike and strike hard…. But…

"What's on your mind," he asked, breaking the troubled silence and not looking up from the book he'd pulled to himself without my noticing. He looked…normal. He looked like he always did: pale, smooth skin, jet black, neatly parted hair, neatly pressed robes that hung slightly loose on his frame, and – okay, I had already tired of saying this, but it remained true – breathtakingly handsome features, which had set thoughtfully so that his lips, full and red, pouted slightly. He looked perfectly normal… just…more human. I found it hard to explain. He always looked this way and nothing had changed in the last month on his part. But I knew I'd started to see in him what the rest of these chicks saw and the way they saw him. Not just the distorted version of him I'd concocted when he freaked me out on our first meeting and when I discovered his true identity.

How can I know that I haven't already changed him? "Just wondering why our Houses can't get along like you and I," I provided.

He nodded understandingly. "Do you think that would be best?"

I shrugged. "We're still alive."

"We are."

We said nothing more for the rest of the hour. The silence no longer troubled or even uncomfortable, actually felt peaceful – outwardly at least.

I'd finally heeded my warning thoughts about the thought process posing a threat to me and saw myself falling prey to it. My fear spiked in response to my own peace and lack of calamity as I sat right next to Lord Voldemort – as I bonded with him, listened to him breathe and watched the pallor of his skin glow paler in the dimming light of the dying candles. Impatience joined the fear with the thought that my heart didn't thump wildly at knowing that he had his wand. The full, powerfully intense presence of calm as I watched him pour over the book, noticing how wrong I'd turned out about him staying perfectly still when he read in my past analyses of him alarmed me. The smirk pulling at my lips as I watched his eyes glaze over once in a while and his lids blink them back into focus felt stupid and brash. The tickle in the back of my own throat – an urge to cough – when he cleared his throat quietly got laughed at by the bitch side of me. My own not panicked realization of that damned pool of tenderness in my chest growing when he would surreptitiously flick his eyes my way and I'd look away to hide my memorizing process came off as most blasphemous to my deepest survival instincts.

In sum, this had scared me shitless. But apparently, I realized as the sound of muffled footsteps accompanied by a hushed 'oh-ho-ho' reached my ears, it could get much, much worse.

I flinched at the sudden snap of Riddle shutting the book before, with an almost invisible flick of his wand, he vanished the materials before us except for my piece of parchment. He stood, snatched it up and handed it to me before hissing, "Get up. Just show him this and if he asks you to the dinner party just say 'yes'."

"But – but I don't –"

"Please, Thalia?"

That should be illegal! He should not be allowed to look like that when asking nicely. His eyes sparkled with the tiny bit of light surrounding us under his pleadingly angled eyebrows and his lips parted slightly as if ready to persist and ask again if denied what he'd asked for.

Yet, I didn't feel totally hopeless. I still had all my faculties present and readied myself to say 'no' to him (I hated Slughorn's parties in my own time when people I knew were there with me, now imagine when I'd be all alone). But then, it hit me. Riddle would owe me if I accepted. Besides nothing had gotten set in stone about Slughorn inviting me. I hadn't performed to the best of my ability in front of him on purpose this time around. So, I nodded.

"Thank you," he whispered, grasping my hand tightly once and letting go just as the rotund, velvet covered belly appeared just around the spot where Riddle had turned to end up back here. I just watched, counting the moments to my torture, as he squeezed his large form through the clutter of tables and chairs with Black, Malfoy and Nott right behind him.

"Tom, my dear boy! Oh, and Ms. Espinoza. Oh-ho-ho!" the walrus – I mean, Slughorn exclaimed, doing his best impression of surprise. His mustache twitched and wriggled as he smiled slyly and waggled his eyebrows. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Black said you'd be back here and that you might be helping someone with homework, but he said nothing of it being Ms. Espinoza here." Another sly look and he continued. "I just wanted to make sure you were coming to my Halloween dinner party, Tom. You haven't RSVPed yet."

As I stood, I saw three things happen in very quick succession: Riddle's eyes went extremely dark and sinister looking while they rested on Black, then the darkness in his eyes disappeared very quickly and gave way to a shy sheepishness as Slughorn came to a halt with the three boys in front of us. "I'm sorry, sir. I am coming, of course. I simply haven't had time to RSVP with so many things having arisen so suddenly," he said with a slight flick of the eyes in my direction.

I felt the heat rise in my face then as all five pairs of eyes landed on me. Of course, the blame fell to me that he couldn't respond: I'd fainted all over him and shit. But Riddle undid his little attention displacement by turning back to Slughorn and saying, "And no, sir, you weren't interrupting. We were just finishing up looking over her essay to see if anything was left out." He turned to me again and gave me a thoughtful look before again placing the spotlight on me, "Actually, Thalia, if Professor Slughorn doesn't mind –"

The walrus needed only that cue. "But of course! Of course, of course! Hand it here, Ms. Espinoza," he trilled, practically snatching the parchment I'd begun to hand to him. His eyes scanned the foot of parchment quickly and he made several noises that would have sounded obscene in any other setting and situation. The smile on his aged face only grew more and more as he read on and I felt torn between smacking Riddle, who just stared at his three friends impassively, upside the head for setting the trap and laughing at my own stupidity. When Slughorn finished, he let out another "ho-ho!" and handed me back the essay. "You've been holding back, Ms. Espinoza," he accused, wagging another admonishing finger at me and smirking. "I didn't think you had it in you, honestly."

I stopped glaring at Riddle then and tore my gaze away from him to land it on Slughorn. Did he just call me stupid? It's your fault, anyway if he did. I forced a small smile and said, "Hmm, well I try not to show off like some people I know. Plus, Tom here did help me a bit."

Riddle slid his eyes over me appraisingly before smiling and saying, "Don't be so modest, Thalia." He turned to Slughorn again and continued. "I didn't even have to make a correction. It's perfect." I shifted uncomfortably on the spot, noticing Nott and Malfoy suppressing smirks. "She's quite talented, Professor, just a bit shy."

I inhaled deeply though my nostrils to calm myself and met Riddle's gaze, smiling even more broadly: always a dangerous sign coming from me.

Slughorn laughed his overly done belly laugh and said, "Not to worry, dear. I see you've already taken a liking to our Tom, and that's a step toward coming out of your shell and he will help as always. As a matter of fact," he began to rummage through the pockets of his magenta colored robes and I wanted to smack Riddle. "Here you are and I won't take no for an answer. I'm sure Tom could escort you if you're not familiar with my office," he said, extracting a slightly beat up looking scroll of parchment tied with an emerald ribbon.

FUCK! I thought as I took the scroll and said, "Thank you, sir. Of course." My already strained and painful smile grew and I faced Tom. "He's so kind, I don't know if I could repay him for all he's done." The emphasis on the last word didn't stand out too much, but I knew Riddle heard it because he smiled even more broadly as well.

"I'm sure he's just glad to be able to help you. How are you feeling, by the way, after that spill?" Slughorn pulled his concerned face and I got distracted by how odd it looked momentarily.

"Much better, sir, thank you," I answered mechanically.

He nodded, satisfied with his good deed, apparently, and rounded on the three boys again. "Very well, then. Don't forget, boys, Quidditch tryouts are Friday. Tom, you'll have the list of hopefuls by Thursday evening."

Riddle nodded once quickly. "Great. Thank you, sir."

"You're most welcome, my boy. Come now, Black, Malfoy, Nott, let these two finish up." He herded them out of the section and as soon as they left us alone again, I unleashed my swiftest and hardest swat onto Riddle's shoulder.

He just snickered and said, "Well, you said you would go if he asked."

"You practically forced him," I hissed, pointing after Slughorn with the parchment.

The smirk on his face only broadened. "He was going to notice your brain sooner or later. I only helped him along. And besides" He began stepping backward and signaling for me to follow him out. "You got the date you wanted with me. You should be jumping for joy," he finished, leaping back slightly out of the way of my swinging hand. He caught it in his when I'd finally caught up to him out near the front of the library and held it still between his at level with his chest. "I'm kidding. Just consider this as banking on our truce. No one will get the wrong idea, trust me."

I relaxed a bit reluctantly and wriggled my hand free of his. "My friends already did and yours…well, you saw them."

He smirk faded and he nodded. "I'll have to clear some things up with them tonight."

I sucked my teeth impatiently. "Don't. I can handle them."

His smirk returned. "I'm sure you can. You fared well tonight." The smirk broadened and he began walking away again. "Let's see how tomorrow goes."

I groaned before stepping into pace with him as the thought of the next day hit me. Today perhaps hadn't turned out so bad because it night had already fallen, but tomorrow came a new day and new opportunities for gossip. "Well, I asked for it. I shouldn't have asked you out."

He just scoffed and walked out of the library, followed by me looking around to make sure no one had seen that. He slowed down a bit in the corridor. "It's still a bit early, but you should go to sleep now. Not to be rude, but you look like you've not slept in days." He eyed me slightly as we walked toward the set of stairs where we'd split up.

I nodded. "That's not rude, it's honest. I'm exhausted." We stayed silent until we reached the landing where he'd go down and I up and then I uttered a soft, "Thank you…for listening."

A single, stiff nod as he began to descend and he said, "It was nothing. Good night, Thalia."

"Good night."


Metiche* - nosy

Callate** - shut up