'"I could be your perfect disaster."

Ever After, by Marianas Trench


There was a certain song that he used to be very fond of, one that he couldn't remember. The lyrics and the tune came to him when he was asleep, playing on repeat through the oddness that was his dreams. When he awoke, it escaped him again. It seemed important somehow and the song was melancholic; the voice that sang it, he managed to remember, wasn't perfect but it felt like home. Aiden was brought into lucidity by loud voices, giggling, and a general air of excitement. He wasn't able to join in right away – the feeling of his dream was still too strong.

"Wake up," Walden Belby shouted at him, ripping the covers from his body and shocking him with the cold winter air. "It's Christmas, you twat, and you're the last to get up. We've been trying to be considerate and wait for you but it's rather hard to do. Cody already opened his presents, he said there was no reason to wait for you, that it didn't matter, and I'm starting to agree with him."

"Okay," Aiden huffed. "Breath. I barely understood most of that, you spoke so quickly." Regardless, Aiden dressed himself as fast as he could (though most of the Ravenclaws around him were still in their pajamas) and zeroed in on the presents sitting on the foot of his bed. As much as he sometimes hated this holiday, he also loved it. The contradictions were sweet.

"You lot didn't need to wait for me," he told them, sitting back on his bed, eyes not leaving his presents. "It's not like there's some rule saying we all need to open things together."

"We know that." That was Clearwater's voice, a short and usually quiet fifth year. When Clearwater did speak, he was typically very forward and friendly. "But this way we can make sure everyone shares. What if someone gets nothing but socks and someone else gets a hoard of chocolate frogs? Wouldn't be fair, would it?"

Aiden laughed. Leave it to the Ravenclaws to think of something like that. There wasn't much more speak. They all ripped into their presents. Aiden received a few books from his sister along with a letter telling him that those came from her Slytherin connections. They were books he'd been wanting but hadn't been able to get his hands on, so he was appreciative. From his parents, he got a concoction of sweets, some tomes on the Pendragon history from an anonymous giver, a remembrall (as a joke, he hoped) from Johnathon, and one smaller present at the bottom that he had almost missed under the bunch.

It was very neatly wrapped, square, and had a bit of writing on it. To the heir of Pendragon, it was labeled. He tore off the paper carefully, a bit of his stomach swirling nervously. Should he hope on who this was from? Inside was a ring, the band white and intricately carved, a very dark blue stone glinting at him dangerously. On the bottom of the jewel was, he assumed, words from a language he couldn't even begin to recognize. It was a beautiful gift and he certainly felt attached to it but he was somehow certain that it wasn't from who he had been hoping. It fit perfectly on his index finger when he tried it on.

"Whoa, are you going to eat all of that?" Someone asked him, pointing at the sweets his parents had gifted him. He jumped on them, careful with his weight, and put his arms around the stack of candy protectively.

"Yes. Go away. They're mine."


Christmas feast was better than he could hope. He was too distracted by the amount of food to look around, so it wasn't until he was achingly full that he found himself glancing around. The hall was decorated magnificently. The house elves and the teachers had honestly gone all out. It made him smile to see the effort that had been put into the holiday despite how empty the school was. Dumbledore was wearing a purple robe, dotted with blinking stars. The design was very realistic and charmed to swirl around in a rather hypnotic way.

Little first year Allison was dressed in muggle clothing, a skirt and other odd things. Muggle fashion would always confuse him. Her hair was done in tasteful curls and she was laughing at something the Hufflepuff sitting next to her had said. Derrick Nott, at the Slytherin table, was sitting by himself looking extremely moody despite the cheer of the day. That made Aiden feel the smallest bit smug, he would admit.

When his eyes travelled a little further down that table, they met with the dark glare that the beautiful Tom Riddle seemed to always uphold. The stare did soften a little, he raptly noted, when he saw Aiden looking at him. He could easily think too far into that, though, so after a huge, goofy grin that probably reassured Riddle of Aiden's idiocy, he looked away and finished what was on his plate.


It was a few hours later, time passing very quickly amidst the spirit of Christmas, that things got interesting again. Not many people went outside because of the heavy snow but there were the brave few who dared the weather. Aiden wasn't one of those people and he was very glad of that. It seemed the people who did go out always came back in covered in snow. He wasn't sure if there was just a large snow fight going on or if they ended up like that purely due to the weather. He also wasn't sure which idea unnerved him more.

A Hufflepuff third year ran in the entrance, shaking off a pile of snow from her head. It took a few minutes of her de-snowing herself before she even become recognizable. Aiden was considering sending a cleaning charm her way, since she didn't seem to have thought of it.

"Thinking of going out?"

"No," Aiden said slowly, turning from the girl he had been staring curiously at and smiling at Riddle. "It's too wild out there for me. I'd die and you'd miss me forever."

Riddle raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "Would I?"

The blond grinned. "Yeah! You would. You really would. I'm too fun to not be missed, even by the coldest Slytherin."

"I thought we were past your hurtful comments," Riddle remarked mordantly. "I'm not the coldest Slytherin. I'm sure many people would be happy to give you lengthy testimonials of the wonder of my patience."

"You're smiling."

"Am not."

Aiden laughed, hand coming up to brush through his hair. The movement paused when Riddle's eye focused on his hand, expression blandly curious. "That's a new ring," he said.

"Oh." Aiden blinked. "Yeah, I got it this morning. It didn't say who it was from and it has something written on it in a language I don't know. It was a Christmas present." He spoke the last part a bit bitterly, brown eyes staring at the Slytherin beauty accusingly.

"Hmm," Riddle frowned. "Speaking of Christmas presents, I got yours. It was very . . . interesting. I had been looking for that book for some time and I'm unsure how you found that out but I appreciate it nonetheless. Thank you, Pendragon."

Alright, so he was having a harder time staying angry after a seemingly genuine thanks but he was still a bit miffed that Riddle hadn't gotten him anything, either. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting or why he'd expected anything – he'd assumed and had been wrong. Aiden deflated, anger leaving him.

"You're welcome. My sister, ah, is a Slytherin. I had her ask you what you were reading a few times and kind of did a little investigation. It was a good guess, I suppose. I'm glad you like it," he said.

Riddle sighed and turned away from him, marching toward the nearest stair case. "Follow," the Slytherin said simply and Aiden obeyed. They walked in general silence, Aiden speaking up occasionally to make jokes that Riddle would scoff at. Riddle sometimes said something sardonic and Aiden would burst into laughter again, poking fun at how dry Riddle's humor was.

Aiden was led into an empty classroom on one of the top floors of the school. It was a very unused room but it wasn't dusty and wasn't that messy, either. In fact, it seemed to be in much better shape than one would expect. Aiden wasn't sure if that was just another odd thing about the magical castle or if this was a place Riddle visited often. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. Riddle closed the door behind them and now the Ravenclaw was nervous.

"Erm," he said. "Merry Christmas."

"I'm not stupid, Pendragon," Riddle began, ignoring his attempt at making things a little lighter. "I know you're disappointed that I didn't get you anything. This is . . . new to me, one might say. As much as I am unwilling to admit it, I do not know how to approach what is going on here. I am not even sure that I want to. And yet," he paused, looking Aiden up and down the same way he had months ago on the Hogwart's express, the way that sent a shiver down Aiden's spine, "I find myself disappointed that I did nothing, as well. I am not the type of person who denies himself what he wants often."

Aiden swallowed, eyes wide. "I don't really know what you're talking about," he breathed and after a few seconds he amended himself. "Rather, I think I know what you're talking about and I – . . . I'm mostly likely wrong but—" He cut himself off, unsure of how to word his suspicion tactfully. He was standing straight, as was Riddle, and for what seemed like the first time in their many interactions he was the one who moved first. He took a step toward Riddle, strangely calm despite the nerves coursing through him. That seemed like a big thing, a part of him noted idly.

"Is it possible that you fancy me, Riddle?"

The question hung in the air. Riddle seemed pensive, almost troubled. His eyes were perturbed and Aiden was certain that, had the Slytherin less self-control, he might even be fidgeting. "I don't think I know what that feels like," he admitted. He sounded bored, damn him.

Aiden was angry again. "The thing is, I fancy you. So when you manage to figure out how you feel, if you feel anything at all, you can talk to me again. I don't want to be your toy. You're frustrating and you're irritating at times and you're also unbelievably fun to talk with. But I've been in this position before; I know better than to bother fancying someone who can't return the sentiment. I refuse to play the naïve magical teenager who chases after anyone interesting."

"I'm aware of that," Riddle said icily, leveling him with a glacial look. "I brought you up here for a reason. When I don't know something, I find out."

With that said, Riddle grabbed Aiden's tie and pulled him toward him roughly. His skin was very soft, as was expected, and his other hand tilted Aiden's head up with surprising softness. (Aiden, for once, didn't really mind his awkward height.) "When I want something," Riddle whispered, breath ghosting against Aiden's lips, "I take it." Aiden wasn't interested in hearing whatever speech would follow that, so he pushed himself up on his toes and crushed his lips against the Slytherin's.