October 29th, 1942

"That's a pretty necklace Re," Abby commented through a mouthful of oatmeal, "Is it new?"

Merissa smiled tucking the pendant back under her robes. It had slipped out while reaching around James to the espresso kettle. She was pleased, as it was her first day back in classes and she was proudly adorning the small gem that she had received the night before. When she had first been pricked by it, she had flung the package away. It spent nearly an hour in the corner of the room before she decided she couldn't leave it there for someone else to find. There was no knowing how much damage it could cause if one picked it up with their full hands. She had unsteadily walked to the corner and scooped it up by its silver wrappings. The next hour it spent on the edge of her bedside table, being glared at. It was wrapped tight, but she still had felt as if it were watching her, amused. By the third hour her curiosity overpowered her fear and she had snatched it up, unwrapped it in her lap and started experimenting with it. She worked through the night, getting no sleep, but by the time the first rays of dawn were coming through the windows, she had removed the curse and could touch it openly. It had been clasped around her neck by the time Madame Charron had woken up and told Merissa she could leave. After a speedy shower she had decided to wear it under her robes until the time was right. She wanted Riddle to see it, but not until he was stuck in a classroom full of witnesses with her.

"Yes," Merissa said conspiratorially, "It was a gift."

Mary looked up from her conversation with Thomas, her ears ever peeled for gossip. The moment Merissa had become a sympathetic character in the eyes of the school, she had been spending more time with them again. She had always been unwilling to engage in conflict, though she loved to hear about it.

"Not from Malfoy I hope," Susan said from beside Alphard, who suddenly looked like he had smelled something foul, "You haven't spoken to him, correct?"

"Correct," Merissa agreed breezily. She had not mourned the absence of her boyfriend from her bedside the past day.

"Serves him right for just sending flowers after what he did to you," sniffed Abby. Her opinion of the boy had taken a tremendous dip over the last few days. Almost everyone's had.

Everyone except Tom and his company, at least, Merissa thought as she glanced over at the neighboring table. Abraxas' blond head was right next to Riddle's dark one, as if all that had happened in the past few months had been forgiven. He had been reinstated it seemed after his heroic save, though one of the conditions seemed to be treating Merissa like the plague. According to Alphard, Abraxas had skipped all of his classes since the incident and had spent all his time lurking around the seventh floor. Merissa had to forcefully remind herself every time she thought of this that it was unimportant what he was doing as long as he was staying away from her. Still, it seemed more than likely that he was doing something for Riddle, which was interesting enough as it was. She looked back down, at her porridge, her spoon was still spinning around cooling it dutifully as she had charmed it to do several minutes ago. It no longer looked appetizing, even as she took the spoon and took a small bite. Disgusting. It seemed the war had finally reached Hogwarts. There was no longer any of the tiny fruit muffins she adored and the apple butter had been mysteriously missing from the table lately. War seemed to consume all good things and apparently pastries were no exception.

"Are you even still together?" Alphard asked, his eyes flickering to Abraxas as well.

"Certainly," Merissa sighed, putting down her spoon in defeat. She would rather go hungry that eat this tasteless glop, "A head wound is nothing compare to what what my parents would do if they - well you know."

Alphard did know. He was terrified of his own parents, yet still no one was quite as monstrous as Gregor Thorpe. His violent temper may have been merely rumor around the Ministry, but even the best kept secrets were not safe within the intricately woven fabric of Britain's esteemed wizarding families.

They all knew, but Abby still piped up, "But isn't that because he's pureblood and it's proper though, right? If some other acceptable pureblood took an interest. . ."

She looked to Susan for support, but she was already shaking her head.

"That's pretty unlikely Abby," Susan told her, "It a pinch, sure, but he would have to default on their relationship a bit more than stunning her to get out of it."

"Still, there's plenty of good families with eligible bachelors and such right?" Abby insisted.

Abby was halfblood and never quite grasped certain mandated aspects of their lives. She could vacation with them and stay at their houses for Christmas break, but she never seemed to get far past romanticizing it all. Her understanding of the darker parts was limited.

"Sure," Merissa shrugged, standing up, "But that's not a problem for right now. He's leaving me alone and that's fine with me. I will deal with it as it comes."

Abby looked disapprovingly at her but before she could be lectured, Merissa called down the table, "C'mon Thomas, let's go to Arithmancy."

Edward looked surprised to be invited along, but grabbed his bag and was quick to follow her out of the hall, a danish still in hand.

/_\

As Tom sat down into his usual desk, (nudging Davao Rosier aside as the small boy had been saving the seat for him) he discovered Merissa Thorpe already occupying the desk directly across from his own, far from her general domain in the far back, on the highest level of desks. He found himself to be a little disappointed that his gift hadn't seemed to have lengthened her hospital visit any. The necklace had been cursed with a spell he had adapted himself and was rather proud of. Sure, while it may have been easier to slip it into one of his dorm mates belongings for a test, it was important to him that she saw what a powerful adversary he was. He had hoped it would at least have her frightened enough to stay out of his sight longer, but here she was, chatting cheerfully with the other Ravenclaw prefect, Thomas. She looked perfectly healthy throwing back her dark hair playfully, inadvertently dazzling a nearby Slytherin boy who was sitting a few seats away.

Pitiful, Tom thought, eyes narrowing at the boy. He had never even noticed him before, but now he felt significant animosity towards him. As Tom watched her, he almost felt as if she was mocking him with her perfect health. He scowled as Rosier said something to him from his left about the class today. He flicked his wand at him carelessly, doing the equivalent as constricting his lungs for a moment. He was no mood for it today. As Rosier gasped as quietly as he could in his seat, Tom looked more carefully at her. There had been a flash of blue when she moved, but there was no way that what was she was playing with, drawing Thomas's attention down. . .

Riddle practically lurched out of his seat when he realized what she was fingering. It was the necklace he had sent to her. For a moment he was struck with wild excitement as he imagined the repercussions of her handling it so liberally. He then wondered how she could bare to touch it, before he realized she must have lifted the charm. The look of crazed elation dropped from his face to be replaced by an expression for twisted fury. How? He had created the spell and applied it himself. It had taken him days - and he hadn't even bothered to learn how to reverse it. He stared at her, straining his whole body as it seemed torn between staying seated and leaping up and spiriting across the isle to strangle her. There it was, clear as day, being spun around her fingers artfully, as if she had time to practice. The idea of this made his blood boil.

"Mr Riddle?" asked Professor Shacklebolt.

Tom realized he was half raised out of his seat, visibly seething, wand held like a weapon. He quickly sat back down, "My apologies professor, I got a cramp in my leg."

Shacklebolt nodded knowingly before beginning a lecture. Tom found he didn't hear a word. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the necklace, no longer in her fingers, but resting just below the hollow of her pale neck. It was a tiny thing, nothing he had given a second thought to when he stole it. Insignificant until he had given it power, just like her. She was no one until he went after her. The gem brushed along her neck as she leaned down to retrieve a notebook from her bag. If the curse was still intact it would be cutting into her skin, leaving bloody trails and streaming out onto her breakable clavicles. . .

He finally noticed something that nearly sent him over the edge: she was smiling at him. Her lips were pulled into a small smile, that might have looked cordial if it weren't for her sparkling eyes. She looked as if she had been waiting for him to get a joke and was elated now that he understood - the joke was on him. He was positive she was mocking him now.

He began to see her in hazy red, his knuckles turning white at the grip of his wand, still stowed in his robes. He kept it there because he was not sure if he had enough self control not to hex her if it was outside, not to mention the attention a drawn wand would cause, especially from a prefect. She looked incredibly haughty, a queen surrounded by her court in this classroom. Unbothered, untouched and ignoring him. She knew he wouldn't do anything in front of all these people. It made him want to kill her all the more.

Tom would never know what Shacklebolt taught them that day, because he never once took his eyes off her. She was being a model student, scribbling down notes diligently, and looking only from the professor to her notes. No one would have noticed anything off about her, but Tom saw she would fiddle with the pendant every few minutes, and every time he would swear his wand was about to crack under his grip.

But she didn't look up at him once after the first time. She didn't need to - she was making her point. When the class ended, Tom stormed out before anyone else had even began to stand up, aided by the fact that he had never unpacked his bag. He decided the rest of his classes were insignificant compared to his fury, stalking to the come and go room and giving a couple snogging in a nearby corridor detention for good measure.

Once inside he went to his usual corner filled with the previously dilapidated books. It was now stacked orderly and most of them were readable. He snatched the journal off the top and unceremoniously slammed it down onto the dusty couch that he used for such readings. He had made considerable progress since the beginning of the year, and he was nearly halfway done. Still, other than a few hiding places of little consequence, he had yet to discover anything. He had adapted the curse he had put on the necklace from a spell he had found scribbled in the book, and he had considered it to be his greatest triumph so far - that was until a Ravenclaw was able to remove it in a mere couple of hours.

He suddenly screamed, throwing the book onto the ground where it exploded into a mass of loose pages. He couldn't believe this! She was a nobody, one of his followers play things but she had still bested him twice now. He began throwing out wordless spells at the piles of rubble, exploding and snapping them. A large cushioned arm chair was cut clean in half by a violent slash of his wand. An ornate candlestick was melted into a puddle of molten iron when it was hit by a stream of angry orange light. A small plum of smoke started as a blast hit a poorly painted portrait of a Victorian woman. An ugly bust was cut down its forehead as a jet of white hit it. Riddle stood, panting staring at it, finally stopping. He felt some release just in seeing the bust cut. Walking up to it, his pale fingers trailed the deep furrow in the smooth marble he had made. Closing his eyes for moment he took deep breaths, imagining what he would feel if he cut her like that, particularly on her neck where she had dangled her trophy. His breathing returned to normal and he opened his eyes. He calmed himself with this thought and began collecting the pages of the journal.

Once he had them all in hand he stepped back and exploded the bust into a burst of white rock and powder. He smiled down at a piece that landed near his feet before returning to his work. There was so much to be done now.

/_\

Several floors down, Merissa was feeling quite satisfied with herself as she entered potions and saw that her desk was vacant. She had infuriated Riddle more than she could have ever hoped if he was missing classes due to her antics. Bounding to her seat she took out her potions book, looking forward to whatever lesson Professor Slughorn had prepared for them.

"Move Hornby," she demanded brightly, shooing away the blonde girl who was leaning against Merissa's desk speaking to Lestrange who sat just across the isle.

Hornby scowled at her but Lestrange's dark expression motivated her to return to her desk with Susan near the back of the classroom without complaint.

As Abraxas entered, his eyes flickered to the empty seat before looking at her accusingly, scrunching up the dark skin under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't had proper meal in days, never mind sleeping. She ignored his stare, setting up her supplies meticulously. Riddle's absence had given her an unexpected opportunity to prove to Slughorn her talents were not dependent on anyone but herself.

"Healing elixirs today," the portly professor eventually said after stalling extensively, evidently not as pleased with his missing student as Merissa was. His beady eyes kept wandering back to his empty seat as if he expected Tom to appear. Admittedly, Riddle playing hooky was unheard of. With his favorite student missing and Merissa and Abraxas both looking as if they were competing to see who could look more ill, the world seemed to be turning upside down.

Merissa had already flipped to the correct page by the time Professor Slughorn had finished his sentence and was hurriedly putting away ingredients she wouldn't need so they didn't get in her way. She made a split second decision to boil the feverfew in essence of yarrow first, eyeing the correct amount as she poured them into her warming cauldron. She was taking a risk as she had never tried this before, but it made sense to her, which was the most common indicator of a good addition to a potion. Slughorn was watching her with raised eyebrows already, but did not intervene.

"Crushed unicorn horn and dittany stems," she muttered to herself, standing up and heading to the front of the classroom to collect these ingredients.

Her hands were full when she turned to go back to her seat. She met eyes with Olive Hornby just a moment before she felt an inexplicable lurch from her right leg that nearly sprawled her forward.

"Careful Nicholas Flammel," Alphard joked, as he steadied her, having been just going up to get ingredients for his own potion, "Even brewing the elixir of life is going to be put on hold if smash all the ingredients."

She looked up at him, eyes wide and he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Watch out. Hornby and Lestrange have been whispering about you. It was her who just hexed you."

She nodded, jerking her her head subtly as if she was just orienting herself. He clapped her on the back and continued forward to collect his own unicorn horn. Merissa kept her eyes from jumping to her alleged assailant, walking back to her seat pretending to take inventory of the collection of materials in his hands. Hornby's time would come.

After an extremely successful period of potion making, Merissa was grinning to herself as she packed up her ingredients. Her flawless healing elixir was already tucked safely into her bag in a small stopper flask. Slughorn had insisted she kept some and was sending a sample personally to Slevin's Apothecary, a teaser for the larger order she had began brewing under his supervision for them. Her mood was significantly dampened when a blond Slytherin blocked her from exiting her desk.

If he felt anything speaking to her for the first time since he had stunned her, his steely eyes did not betray him. She hardened her jaw as she sat back down, unhappy to have to look up at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Susan and Abby disappear out of the door. They had no idea anything was amiss.

"Where is Riddle?" he demanded without any greeting. She refused to kink her neck enough to speak to his already tall figure so she spoke to his elegant leather book-bag instead.

"I am not responsible for my potions partners whereabouts," she snarked, "You're the one who is so chummy with him, why don't you tell me?"

Alphard began inching closer, his half cleaned cauldron forgotten behind him and still sizzling lightly. Slughorn had already left to his office, either unaware or untroubled by the recent events. They were now the only one's left in the room as everyone else had been eager to escape the extended class, even if it was to do more homework.

"Don't get cute with me Thorpe. He's not here and you look like Christmas came early," Abraxas said looking bored as he stood like a wall in her path. He was unyielding as a boulder, and she couldn't hope to squeeze past him.

"Well I can't help it if his presence is a hindrance to my brewing abilities," she began loftily, glancing up to see that he was pinching the bridge of his nose at this comment. That's what let her know she was on to a great start, so she continued, "Really he doesn't have the mind for it you know, rigidity and all, but you know all about that!" she smiled up at him. His hand moved to take out his wand, but Alphard stepped forward, jostling his shoulder so he could squeeze between them.

"Settle down you two," Alphard requested, trying to sound nonchalant despite his tight jaw and hand deep in his robes, presumably around his wand. Abraxas and himself were a mere few inches from eachother faces, which did nothing to calm the situation, "No need for a lovers spat."

"Mind your own business, Black," Malfoy barked.

"Sorry, but she's my friend, it's my business."

"Friend," Malfoy's lip twitched, and he leaned in closer, making Alphard grimace away from his proximity, "How amusing."

"I don't see why it would be amusing, the joke would be on you if that wasn't the case," Alphard said snidely, refusing to move farther back, though he was nearly in Merissa's lap already.

"Hardly," Abraxas sneered, but Alphard shoved him back, taking him by surprise.

"Don't you dare," he spat, pushing his wand into Malfoy's chest.

"Stop," Merissa said sharply, standing up as she now had room to do so, "This is isn't a discussion we need to have. I don't know where Riddle is, Malfoy, honestly. Come here Alphard," she hissed, pulling him back by his arm when he made no motion to move by himself, almost nose to nose with Abraxas again, which was quite a feat given how much shorter Alphard was. Their truce had been off since she had been stunned and tensions between them had never been higher. Alphard had started sleeping inside the common room regularly now, too disgusted in Abraxas to be around him anymore than was necessary.

Merissa towed her friend from of the dungeons and outside, hoping the cool air would knock some sense into him. He didn't fight her, but she still have to steer him rather forcefully as marching back up to Abraxas seemed to still be a powerful thought in the forefront of his mind. She didn't let go of him until they had made it a good ways away from the castle, in front of a large granite fountain that was popular for reclining on the wide rims during nicer days. Alphard looked at her darkly, but didn't say anything as she folded her arms defensively in front of herself.

"I didn't do it to protect him," she told him stonily, her years of experience with his temperament telling her this was what was currently peeving him.

He ignored her, and she watched him pull out a cigarette and light it with a practiced flick of his wand. She touched his wrist as it brushed his robes, stowing his wand away, "I did it for you."

He took a long drag and blew it out slowly, pondering her sidelong through the cloud. A nearby third year was waving the smoke of of her face, looking disgusted, "What, do you want one?" Merissa snapped, causing her to scuttle away.

"I don't need protection Re," he began, but she shook her head.

"I didn't say you did."

He considered this taking another drag, before offering the cigarette to her. She hesitated as she usually didn't smoke, but her nerves were feeling rather frayed. Once she had accepted it, Alphard started rubbing his hands together, warming them and drying the cold sweat that had formed. She closed her eyes as she inhaled and coughed lightly. It really was a disgusting taste, but she was starting to calm down.

A strong gust of wind came up, blowing leaves at their ankles and easily pushing through Merissa's thin jumper. She shivered and sat down on the edge of the fountain, wrapping her arms around her torso.

Alphard fished a jacket out of his bag and wordlessly offered it to her. She accepted, trading it to him for the cigarette. They stood there, silently smoking together until there was barely a butt left.

"I'm going to head to lunch, do you want to come Re?" he asked, handing the smoldering stogie back to her after taking a last puff.

She waved him off, but made to take off his coat.

"No keep it," he insisted, "I already had Care of Magical Creatures today so I won't be going outside until tomorrow unless you want to sneak out into the forest tonight and stake some vampires," she rolled her eyes at him, "Oh c'mon that was a joke," he grinned, though he had been somewhat serious, "You can come visit me after dinner to return it," he smiled gently at her so she nodded.

Once he had gone, she stood up on the fountain's edge and walked a few careful steps across it before hopping off, now facing away from the castle. As beautiful as it was, gray stone became tiresome after a while. Consistency, after all, was not a part of her life anymore, and she found she enjoyed the frozen landscape more than the familiarly sculpted towers. The trees were freshly dusted with the first snow of the season and were stark white against the darkening sky. It was hardly afternoon, but the sun was setting as autumn greedily sucked the light from the day. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago it had been sunny. The sun was nowhere to be seen. Winter had come upon the countryside without any warning. She wanted to be alone for a little, surveying the icy grounds, but after just a few minutes, she was spun around by a firm grasp. She found herself face to face with Abraxas again, looking even further annoyed than earlier.

"Here you are and -" he stopped in disgust, wrinkling his nose, "Smoking? And is that Alphard's jacket? Of course it is," he snapped when she just looked at him coolly, her jaw shut tight, not planning to respond, "Of course you would be out here in the freezing cold, smoking, and wearing his jacket. That's just so typical of you."

She made a point to blow her last mouthful of smoke into his face and tossed the butt to the ground before saying, "At least I'm wearing a jacket in the cold."

He sneered at her, "You know I hate that disgusting habit of yours."

"I do, and I don't care," she said, tossing his words back at him, squashing out the smoldering waste with her toe, and making to brush past him, before he caught her arm.

"You-" he dragged his other hand over his face before continuing, "You are so immature."

She didn't want to look up at him again so she glared at the stone wall instead. It was similar to his eyes at the very least. Grey and chilly as winter. Comments like this were plenty common at home but she had grown to expect a higher standard from Hogwarts as long as Joseph wasn't around.

Now she felt a fool for ever trusting either.

"I don't know Abraxas," she muttered, "You expect a lot from someone who is apparently so immature. Maybe that's what you're doing wrong. Will you let go?"

She wiggled her arm in his grip but his long fingers wrapped all the way around her trapped appendage and did not budge despite the slippery leather of her borrowed jacket.

"You're just proving my point - no," he stopped himself, putting a hand up as if she was the one who needed to be calmed, "No, this is not worth arguing about. This is toxic. We used to get along fine, what is the issue?"

"You stunned me you arse! That's issue."

She had began trying to pry his fingers individually off of her but he took her unhindered hand and entwined it in his own, making her look back up. He was wearing a serious and tender expression that made her uncomfortable without even hearing the speech she knew would undoubtedly accompany such an constructed face.

"Okay," he said, shaking his head, "What can I do to fix that? I just want my old girlfriend back. Do you remember all those summers in Italy? Even just a few weeks ago, everything was fine, you were being wonderful, taking classes seriously, coming to my games and practices. . .behaving."

His appeal to her sensitive side did nothing as most of her memories of Italy with him were waiting around in over priced shoes stores while him and his mother played dress up with her as if she were a doll.

"Yes I suppose I was acting just the way you like," she flared, "I just have trouble maintaining it when we're being lorded over."

"Not this again," he groaned, "This is circular. . . .pointless! This isn't about Riddle."

"Yes it is," she cried indignantly, "The only reason we weren't speaking is because of him and the only reason you talked me today was to ask about him. It's all about him."

"You're the one making it about him," Abraxas insisted, "I recognize that necklace Merissa. He took it from Rosier a few days ago. Rosier was going to give it to some girl he fancied, but Riddle told him that was foolish and that he needed it for something. I'm not even going to begin to speculate how you have it now and why you are wearing it, but my point is, you are the one making this about Riddle. Not me."

This was all indisputably true, and interesting at that. She had wondered how he gotten his hands on the necklace, as it seemed unlikely that he would visit a jewelry store just to curse her. Despite this, the accusation of her being the one who was obsessed with Riddle was preposterous to her, especially coming from Abraxas, who nearly fell to his knees every time his idol was around.

Merissa was taken aback by this enough to allow him to cup her chin in his hand, "We don't have to care Mer. We just have to live with each other."

He was more earnest than she had ever seen him. He so desperately wanted her to understand. And it made her sick to her stomach.

She slapped his hand away, allowing a flash of heat to flow through her hand. It was easy when he made her so angry. The energy was already there, almost impossible to stop. In fact, she was unsure how much control she had with it anymore. He withdrew his arm, cursing, and she saw with pleasure that a red burn was forming in the shape of her hand on his wrist. She hoped it would scar and he would have another addition to his collection. She pushed past him, making him stumble back, and went back into the castle.

Abraxas steadied himself against the fountain edge. He was already unstable as it was. Riddle was having him work on different ways to get into the come and go room at all hours now for seemingly no reason, though he knew better than to expect his old place as Riddle's most favored so quickly. Once he had refilled his lungs with the cold air again, he felt strong enough to go back inside and find something to treat his arm. Another scar was inevitable he knew, but in this condition if he lost any blood he would faint.

Not that he blamed her. He hoped this would be the last time he had to provoke her. There was no reason for her to be around Riddle now, he had made sure of that. If everything continued as it should and she didn't do anything senseless, this would all blow over by the holidays.

His parents would be disappointed of course if Merissa never forgave him. His mother fawned over her even more than she did him as she had always wanted a daughter to dress and spoil. His father on the other hand was insistent. Only a boy would do, and as they had one on the first try there was no reason for anymore. He was quite lonely growing up, never allowed to play with anyone but Alphard, Avery and occasionally Nott, all of which who lived very far away. Merissa and himself visited often, especially after the arrangement of their betrothment at ten, though she was always more interested in following her older brother around, at least back then. Abraxas felt guilty that both him and Joseph had pushed her away now.

Abraxas stalked through the castle, clutching his arm and he hurried up the steps, receiving several suspicious glares as he did so. Despite all of the other much more pressing issues, he disliked the infamousy his spats with Merissa caused. When he finally reached the seventh floor, he hardly bothered to look around for onlookers before he began pacing in front of the tapestry of a uncoordinated trolls until a door appeared in the wall. His vision was starting to close as he entered the come and go room, whispering cursing to himself, when he stopped short noticing the room was not vacant as he anticipated.

"My deepest apologies my lord," he said quickly, dipping his head, "I did not know you would be here. I just came for something to heal this," he indicated his ravaged arm.

Tom snapped shut the leather bound journal and in a quick motion had stashed it under the cushions to look up innocently at Abraxas all before he had began speaking. Abraxas blinked in confusion as he still had dark borders in his vision and could not see the motion clearly, but Tom quickly diverted his attention.

"Come here Malfoy," Riddle commanded, annoyed by his disruption, but immediately pouncing on the opportunity when he saw the way Abraxas was clutching his arm. He has a good guess where the oozing marks might have come from. Malfoy obeyed, shyly coming over to the couch.

"Sit."

Abraxas did exactly as he was told, and Riddle took his arm into his lap to see it closer, dipping his head down to examine it. His breath brushed against the wound gently. Malfoy stiffened.

"Whatever happened to you?" Tom asked, careful not to sound too interested despite the fact that his nose was a mere few centimeters from Abraxas' arm.

Mer - Thorpe," he corrected himself quickly.

"You may call her by her first name Malfoy. She is to be your wife someday," Tom replied calmly. He meant this as a jibe.

"Merissa burned me," Abraxas revised uncertainly.

"Hmm," Riddle said, prodding at the flesh, ignoring Malfoy's wincing. It was obvious that the burn was just where her hand had made contact with his skin, the line clearly defined. He could perfectly picture how her hand had hit the unfortunate arm.

"Does she do this frequently?" he queried, poking the worst of the burn with the sharp tip of his yew wand. Nothing happened, which was frustrating. Her magic left no trace other than the obvious injury.

Tom was still elated to have this convenient opportunity to see her handiwork and ask about it without seeming too invested. It was fascinating how precise it seemed. Perfect and potent magic, undeniably. Faced with this example of her work it was impossible to deny her talent, for this very specific ability at least.

"Ye-no," Malfoy was distracted being this close to Riddle. He could almost count the individual eyelashes that nearly brushed his cheeks. Merissa's lashes actually did, but he had never admired them like he was admiring Tom's now. All reasonable suspicions left him as his eyes began tracing Riddle's sharp jawline as it flexed.

"Which is it?" Tom snapped, eyes flashing up.

Abraxas attempted to regain his apathetic stare, removing all affect from his tone, "Yes. It happens when she loses her temper."

"How?" Riddle demanded immediately.

Malfoy began to explain the best he could while attempting to control his erratic heartbeat.