So, back to our scheduled updating - and with that, come the review replies:

smolstan: So happy you caught that ;) Tom doesn't have the purest of intentions here.
cinnamon roll scorp:
I love Alden Greengrass as much as you do (that cinnamon roll baby of mine), but we all know his heart isn't going to survive this ride.
Mokki Takash:
I'm glad you like it so much!


She's as good at faking as he is.

Kate shows no indication that the previous night's conversation ever took place, choosing to be as cheerful and oblivious as she was ten hours ago. Alden Greengrass, however, seems to have stored the preceding day's events in his trove of treasured memories - that sort of devotion is sickly sweet, cloying and suffocating. And if he were being honest, little Miss Summers had a taste for bitter dark chocolate, not sugar quills.

After all, the quills are good to look at and nice at first taste, but dark chocolate always makes the person come back for more.

So far, Erik has been indulging him in a discussion over Grindelwald's policies and principles, and one look inside the boy's head told him he would disappoint. The school had a reputation for being accepting of the Dark Arts, so he expected that their Head Boy would hold the Arts in some esteem. This one turned out to be a follower of Dumbledore's.

However, he seems to be enjoying Tom present a defence of the Dark Arts - in purely academic capacity, he assures him, because what would a debate be if both parties concurred? And Erik laughs and says of course, and continues listening with rapt attention as Tom explains the pros and cons of delving deeper into the Dark Arts.

The group surrounding him is more supportive, smiling at him with appreciation at his words. He notices one scowl - that blond puritan - and expects his best friend to have somewhat the same expression on her face, but Kate Summers looks at him with an expression of pure curiosity and fascination, eyes seemingly sparkling as she listens to every word intently.

Of course she hasn't developed a love for the Dark Arts overnight - it's the scientist in her that's sitting here, curiosity and intellectual thirst pushing aside morality, and that is what he respects about her the most.

Erik retreats to his school's table, his spot filled in by a fellow Slytherin. The Beauxbatons have not interacted with them much, preferring to stick with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, so now he is left with listening to Avery drone about the girl he is taking to the Ball.

Speaking of which…

He has not picked out a partner.

Tom had been gifted a pair of robes by the Malfoys, who had taken a fancy to him during his previous stay on the estate. But new or borrowed, he was not taking charity, so the robes went off in a Knockturn Alley auction and he got a more subtle set that complemented his leonine physique and sharp facial features.

"So, Tom, got a date?"

It was lunch then, and Orion arched an eyebrow, then laughed, looking around the table. "Well, I shouldn't even be asking this - girls will willingly cancel previous engagements for you, unlike us poor lads." Walburga shot him one of her 'come-hither' smiles, and while she would be an ideal choice for a social such as this, he has someone else in mind.

"Well," he turned to the male Black, "it is customary for the Head Boy's first dance to be with the Head Girl."

"A custom last practiced one and half century ago?" Tom smiled, glancing at Kate.

"Traditions are traditions, and I'm certain she would agree with this." The girl returned the favour with a smile, a challenge hidden in that expression.

"A true Slytherin upholds the traditions of its forefathers."

"I must say, the two of you will look quite the pair," Druella chipped in, and he decided to take a peek in Alden's mind (just to gauge the situation) and was pleased to feel irritation rising to anger in his head. After all, what is a courtship without any drama?

"However, since the Head Girl has so kindly accepted the other Head Boy's offer, it seems like you will have a first dance and nothing else, Riddle." Ah - a spanner in the works. Walburga it is.

"Walburga," he looked at her, "surely you would accompany this dateless fool?" She gave him a dazzling smile.

"You are one lucky dateless fool, Riddle," she answered, a hand coming to rest on his arm.

"Well, we must get going," Alden announced, "Black, Malfoy, come on." He turned to Kate, a smile on his face. "I trust I will be seeing you there?" She nods, and Tom made a mental note to head to the Quidditch game once lunch ended.

Ten minutes later, he was heading to the Quidditch pitch with Druella, Walburga, Kate, Julius and the rest of the group. He saw Alden at the helm - word was that Lyall gave up captaincy as Abraxas refused to listen to a Gryffindor. On the other end, he sees Erik manning the hoops, making a round through them before he rejoins his team.

After a curt handshake between Greengrass and the Durmstrang captain, the match commences, all schools cheering. The Beauxbatons had chosen to field their team tomorrow against the loser of today's match - which was rich coming from them, because they didn't have a team even close to either Hogwarts or Durmstrang. The final would be held between the winners of today and tomorrow, and Tom had a distinct feeling that he would be watching a repeat of today on Christmas Eve.

Fifteen minutes in, and Durmstrang had scored thrice already, Erik successfully defending all of Hogwarts' attempts.

"And it's Malfoy - Malfoy with the Quaffle, boy he looks like he's going to punt that ball through with his broom if it comes to that, and he passes to Black and Black finally gets through! It's a goal for Hogwarts!" A roar rises from their side, and he covered his ears to prevent any probable damage.

"And Vulchanov is heading for the Snitch - Vance close at his heels, she's tearing through to get there, and they lost it. But oh wait, what, wait, it's Malfoy with the Quaffle and it is through! That is the second goal for Hogwarts! We're 30-20, ladies and gents." The Quaffle transfers hands, and he sees blood red robes clutching a maroon ball before a Bludger nearly gets him, and the ball begins to plummet.

"The Quaffle is going down folks, and Greengrass has nearly fallen off his broom trying to get a grip on it, and he dodges a Chaser and a Bludger, and THE BALL IS THROUGH! It's a hattrick!"

If he thought the crowd couldn't go any louder, he was dead wrong.

The stands seem to shake as Hogwarts cheers, and while Kate isn't cheering loudly like the others, her eyes are gleaming, hands cupping her mouth and nose. She turns to look at him, clearly surprised.

"How can you be so nonplussed? It's Quidditch!"

"I don't see the charm in it." He has to raise his voice - almost to a yell - to answer, and she laughs. "Care to explain it to me?"

"Try to see it yourself, and if you still don't, then ask me." She resumes looking at the field, eyes following something or someone. He follows her line of sight, and realises what she's tracking - the Golden Snitch.

Arabella Vance flies by, eyes following the same trail as the two of them, only she's on a broom and rocketing towards the little golden ball.

"Vulchanov and Vance, its Vulchanov taking the lead and Vance is streaking past him up in the air - she has the advantage now, folks - and it's Vulchanov at the helm back again - wait, where is the Snitch now?" The Snitch, has seemingly disappeared, and he sees Vance diving towards the ground, Vulchanov still patrolling the skies for a clue.

Kate gasps, eyes wide and fists clenched as a momentary silence takes over the field before Arabella lets out a scream of joy, and the entire Hogwarts team heads downwards, burying their Seeker beneath them.

The stands erupt with another massive cheer, and Druella is racing down to meet Abraxas, while Kate looks at him, same expression on her face, and he wants to squint at the brightness - flushed with happiness, glowing with pride.

He has to admit, the sport is intoxicating - he can understand the heady rush of adrenaline, the adulation and ecstasy of a crowd coursing through one's veins. "It certainly is something." The answer is apparently enough for her, and she leaves to greet the team on the pitch. Walburga stands by him, hand looping through his arm.

He walks back, turning around to look at Alden, Kate, Abraxas, Orion and Druella, who are walking together, discussing the game. Lyall Lupin joins them as well, and while Abraxas makes a face, the rest of the group willingly includes him in the conversation - Druella and Orion because Lyall is pureblood, Greengrass and Summers because they admire his personality.

Walburga prattles on about her dress robes for the Ball, and he isn't interested at all - he knows the girl has impeccable taste and will look comely on the dance floor, but his current goal does not involve her, and least of all her dress robes.

Back in the dungeons, the day passes by with homework and chatter, and he excuses himself to his dormitory, lying down on his bed, eyes shut. Abraxas, Orion and Alden discuss strategies for the final.

"Riddle, what do you think?" He can hear steps, and Tom pretends to sleep as the person draws nearer. "Boy's sleeping like a hippogriff." A few moments later, he hears the door shut behind him as the remaining occupants of the room leave, leaving him free to stare at the inky black water outside his window.

After what feels like two hours, he can hear a loud pattering of feet - time for dinner. Smoothing his robes and hair, he heads down the corridor, and after a cursory stop at the seventh floor, goes down to the Hall greeted by Orion and Abraxas wildly gesticulating in his direction. "What is it?"

"There's a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow." Ah - that.

"Have no doubt that I'll be coming - we must show our foreign friends the life that lies beyond the castle."

But first, time for a trip back to father dearest.


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