Vera decides to ask. It won't be so hard, she rationalizes. What harm can it do?

She finds her mother taking tea upstairs on one of the balconies. Her father is gone on business again. It has been a quite day, an unusually warm day, and now the sun is beginning to make its way down the sky.

"When will we be having dinner today?" Vera asks to break the ice. She doesn't remember the last time they spoke alone.

"Seven. Speaking of which, I should go down and check on the chef," Vera's mother says as she stands.

Vera can't help but fidget, "Before you go, I was wondering if we could talk about something."

Lorainne is tight-lipped as usual. She almost seems to sigh a bit, "Well, what is it?"

"I know that you and father have been very impressed by Nico, but I think other options might suit me better," Vera starts delicately, afraid that if she outright asks about Dante they'll take him away from her, like everything else she enjoys.

"Vera, you know this is not about what will suit you. This is about our family."

"Don't you think there might be other families out there who are just as good of a match?"

"Your father and I have considered all of the options, I assure you. I am sure that Nico and you will be quite happy."

"And I am sure we will not. You know I dislike him. I am asking you, as my mother, to please consider who I would like to be with."

"And who is that, one of those silly boys you run around with at Hogwarts?" Seeing the surprised look on Vera's face, her mother smirks, "Oh, you thought I didn't know."

"Mother, please just hear me out before judging. I would like to marry…"

She cuts her off by scoffing, "Why do you think I care what you would like?"

"Because this is not the medieval ages, and I am not some prize for you to barter away to the highest bider! I want to marry…"

Her mother interjects with, "You'll never change, will you Vera?"

"Why do you make that sound so bad? Why can't I be fine the way I am?"

"Because you are a child. It is time to grow up. This refusing to get married is getting old. Once upon a time, we might have considered it youthful rebellion, but we have lost our patience. You will get married in August and that marriage will be to Nico. That is the end of this conversation. Should you bring it up again, I will not respond so pleasantly."

Vera wants to laugh as her mother walks out of the room. Pleasantly. As if her mother was ever pleasant with her. She slides down the wall and buries her head in her hands, telling herself that she refuses to cry. It never does any good to cry anyway. It would only ruin her makeup if she did, and heaven forbid anyone thinks she does not look perfect for even one second.

Her parents have always been this way. She wishes again for someone to defend her, for someone to be her wall against all the hate and disapproval they funnel toward her. She knows she will never tell Dante. It would break his heart to hear what her mother had said. He thinks her parents have to love her, their only child. She knows that they don't.

As she sits on the hard stone floor with the cold of the night bitting at her, Vera lapses again. This time, the anxiety is not about her impending marriage or whether she is actually a failure at everything. It is about the one secret her family has always kept, the one she has buried the farthest away in her own heart.

Vera was born a twin. Once upon a time, over 17 years ago, her parents had exactly what they wanted – a baby boy. Except that everything had quickly gone wrong. Holding the two babies in her arms, her mother noticed the odd facial features of the boy. The doctor diagnosed it as a genetic disorder. The child might grow up to have normal social interactions, but would likely never be able to do magic or be a fully functioning adult.

Her parents were horrified. They didn't know what to do. Imagine how the family name would be tarnished if it came out that they had a squib. So they hid the boy away in a separate wing, with a muggle nanny to care for him at all times, while magical guests flooded the great hall to celebrate the birth of their little girl. He stayed in that wing for years, her parents visiting weekly at best, until finally, just after Vera turned four and started asking why she couldn't play with her brother, they decided to send him away. They paid a handsome sum for an orphanage in London to take him in and destroy the record of his birth.

The secret of her brother's fate was explained to her only as she was about to enter Hogwarts, and only to make sure that secret did not get out. It was a heavy burden to carry at 11 years of age, the knowledge that nothing, be it blood or bond, was more important than her family name and the reputation that came with it. If she tarnished it in any way, she would not just be a failure – she would be a parasite to be cast off mercilessly.

So it was that the Sinclairs had only one child, a daughter, but at least one who upheld the standards of striking beauty and great magical ability that had been passed down for centuries. But her mother always blamed her for taking away her only boy, for sucking all the strength out of her and never quite deserving it afterward. Her father had long ago passed from bitterness to silence, having the rational sense to realize that Vera had not had the ability to affect the circumstances of her birth, but lacking the emotional strength to embrace her as one should a child of any age.

Perhaps that was why she hated Tom so much, she ruminated. He reminded her of her brother, or perhaps what her brother could have been. Perhaps it had been a mistake. Perhaps he had developed just fine, even learned how to use magic. And perhaps Tom had known him, perhaps they had crossed paths once upon a time in the halls of a London orphanage. She picked on him not because they were opposites, but because they were alike – both had lost their parents in one way or another. In Hogwarts, her only sanctuary from them, the look of disapproval that Tom gave her constantly reminded her so much of the one her parents always had.

And maybe that was what bothered her so much about this year, what drove her to her efforts to drive him crazy through her teasing. They had connected in the deserted common room and the dark cupboard, and she was afraid that would make her fall apart. After all, hating Tom had always been such a central part of who she was when she was at Hogwarts. She wanted to separate herself from the memory of her brother, to bury it so deep she forgot it – but Tom would always be a reminder of it. Perhaps because of that, if she became close to him, he could be the only person to see behind her facade, to get her to reveal her secret. And she couldn't. Her reputation, her family's reputation, rested on it. So instead she tried to scare him away.

She was crying, Vera realized. The effort wracked her body. Her breathing was shallow. She tried to steel herself against the waves of another panic attack, but was unable to even lift her hands to wipe away the tears.

Tom was walking to the library when he heard them talking. Curious as to what Vera could sound so passionate about given her blasé attitude about nearly everything, he had lurked around the corner, ear stuck to the wall. He had heard nearly the entire conversation – heard Vera ask, heard her mother's reaction, heard her tears.

He goes down to dinner on time as if everything is normal, expecting Vera to show up any second now with her usual smile on. She never comes down, so he goes back after dinner to find her still sitting there. For some reason, he feels bad for her. He never thought he would feel bad for anyone, much less Vera Sinclair, who he had so long characterized as a self-obsessed black hole that sucked the feelings out of others. But here she was, sitting on the ground, staring at the sky with tears on her face, completely devoid of her usual perfection. Seeing her unhappy didn't give him the satisfaction he thought it would. Instead, it finally made Tom realize that maybe they were not so different after all.

"May I have this dance?" Tom says, bowing and extending a hand out to her. The music from downstairs is floating up into the balcony, and he just wants to feel close to her again. He doesn't bother to analyze that wish.

Vera looks up, surprised, wiping at her eyes. "Let me just get ready first and then I'll go down…"

"I think you look fine the way you are," Tom declares, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. "And I do not want to go down to that den of boring old people again."

Vera laughs a little as he pulls her up and embraces her, leading her in the same steps they'd taken in the potions cupboard.

"I'm awful to you, amn't I?" Vera whispers.

"You often are." Tom says, leaving it at that.

A few minutes later, they hear a cough from the door and both look over. Dante is leaning against the frame, dressed in a handsome pair of dress robes.

"Your father just got back and he is coming up to speak to you. He was in Greece. Thought I would warn you beforehand."

"Blast it," Vera says, stepping away from Tom.

"I thought I would use these to get out of dancing with Lucy Prewett tonight, but I think you might need them more," Dante says, handing her a bag of bright red candies. "A little fever should get you out of tonight."

"Oh, you are absolutely the best. Though I do think you might need some if the Prewett's have their eyes on you. What gives them the gall? They wouldn't have even been invited if my father hadn't taken pity on them."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks, "Perhaps I shall spirit her away into some corner and show them what their daughter is really worth."

Vera laughs shortly after swallowing three of the candies. She gives the other three back to him. "Oh, you are brilliantly wicked. Now I better get to my room before my father starts looking for me."

As luck would have it, they run into Lucy Prewett just as they reach the stairs. Vera, too busy deciding what disease to feign, bumps straight into her.

"Oh, Vera. It's so nice to see you! I'm having a wonderful time, but I was just looking for the ladies' room," Lucy mumbles.

Vera puts on her best cheery tone, "Right down the hall dear. What have you been up to all this time? I don't even remember the last time we spoke! I love your dress robes, you are so brave to go for the vintage look."

Lucy blushes. They all know that was a comment on the age of her dress robes, not actually a compliment. "Thank you. I haven't done much this break. You don't happen to be throwing any parties?"

She looks over at Dante, "I think we will skip that this year. I'm afraid we've outgrown our nights of debauchery. Anyway, as I remember it, they didn't feature enough books for your taste."

"That's a shame, I was hoping to branch out," Lucy says, trying to force a smile. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could give me some advice on what to wear to the holiday ball. I've never gone…"

Vera falls back as if fainting. Dante catches her with his arms around her waist.

"I'm so sorry, I'm feeling a bit sick and faint," She says, faking a frown. "Dante, would you mind carrying me to my room?"

"Of course darling," he responds, picking her up. Tom looks on, fascinated by the show and semi-horrified by Lucy's face. He recognized her from school – a Ravenclaw with a helpful proclivity for following instructions. She helped him find the entrance to the chamber last year by agreeing to record the girl's bathroom conditions for "prefect purposes." He almost felt bad for the way Vera had torn her up in a mere five minutes by making it very much clear that Dante belonged to her. Everything belonged to Vera, whether she really wanted it or not.

"What a bore," Vera exclaims with a sigh as Dante drops her at her door.

"The girl was just trying to be friends with you, and you were vicious to her because of a silly dance," Tom replies.

"Why don't you go dance with her then? Merlin knows she would be lucky to have even you," Vera snaps at him. Tom knows this is a double insult, meant to remind him how lowly he is because he is an orphan and to imply that Lucy doesn't deserve even that.

"Vera," Dante chimes at her sharply.

"I do so hate when you tell me to be nice. It has such an air of irony coming from you. I am going to bed now."

Vera slams the door on them both. Dante stands perfectly still for a few seconds, staring at it. He suddenly turns on his heel, mutters "fuck tonight" and stampedes down the hall and up to their room.

By the time Tom joins him, he seems to have calmed down and is laying on his bed with a book. Tom starts working on an essay. About half an hour passes before Dante says, "I'm sorry she said that."

"You don't need to apologize for her. I know she hates me."

"If she hated you she would have told her parents you were a muggleborn the second they said to invite you. Calm down, I basically bothered her into telling me because I was wondering why you were here and why I'd never heard of your family before."

"Trust me, Vera hates me."

"Trust me, she doesn't. Vera and I have been making trouble together practically since we could walk. I can tell when she hates someone, and she definitely does not hate you. She's just…"

"Vicious?"

"A little sensitive, believe it or not." There's a moment of silence before he continues. "Actually, when I saw you two dancing, I thought…"

Tom detects jealousy in his voice – the same jealousy Vera had when talking about Lucy – and automatically knows what the implication is. "She would never."

Dante stands, chuckling. "And you would?"

"I did not say that."

"She's Vera Sinclair. Anybody would."

"Anybody who only has half a mind. I think my IQ is a bit higher than Nico's."

Dante laughs boisterously and slaps him on the shoulder as he passes, "Perhaps you are a match for her after all old boy."

Vera bounces into their room the next night, holding up a bottle of firewhisky in one hand and mead in the other. "The adults are gone, and it is time for the children to play. You better hurry up or we'll be late to our own party."

Tom knows that her parents are at the adults-only Minister's Ball for the weekend. He does not know about Vera and Dante's infamous Six Days of Christmas party – or parties rather, because it was a six night event that concluded with a dusk-till-dawn celebration following her family's ball.

"You sound excited," Dante says, grabbing the bottle of mead out of her hand. "Managed to swipe the floo powder?"

"Adorable that they thought they could keep us from sneaking out, isn't it? Your Italian villa awaits! Come on Tom, you don't want to be bored alone, do you?"

"Actually, yes, I do."

"Too bad, because you don't have a choice. Can't have anyone babbling to the servants, can we?"

"Don't worry, I won't say anything."

"I'll give you the keys to the professors' offices if you come."

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them."

"How do I know they will actually work?"

"You're getting them from me. They work."

"Fine," Tom says, rolling his eyes and standing. Perhaps this will be an enlightening experience.

The beach house in northern Italy is beautiful and the party is extravagant. Young wizards from around the world, including quite a few from Hogwarts, fill the grand rooms, drinking wine out of fountains and dancing in the olympic-length pool. Tom watches the whole thing from the library, which he manages to lock so that he can spend the time alone. He chose it because it is seems to be the quietest point in the place, probably because of its position nearly hanging over the gentle hill that leads to the beach front.

When the party finally dies out, Tom leaves the library, tiptoeing around the people passed out on couches and all over the floor in order to get something to eat. He finds an abandoned tray of tea sandwiches on a table near the pool, then walks closer to the water as he hears laughter. It's too dark to recognize anyone, but the wind carries the familiar voices up.

"Well the sea is calling my name. And it is your choice whether or not you shall come with me," Vera declares.

"This is silly. Someone is going to see us."

"Relax, everyone's asleep. Besides, I don't care," Tom sees the outlines of her clothes just barely as they fall to the floor.

"Of course you don't with a body like that."

"I certainly think I look better than that blond you were having a bit of fun with."

"Keeping up appearances. Just like you and Nico. You two seemed to be quite cozy on the dance floor."

"Merlin knows it's the only thing he's even half decent at."

"And what about your schoolboy? He seems to impress you quite a bit."

She actually chuckles. "Are you getting jealous Dante? I thought we had discussed this."

"I know. As I said, appearances." He pauses as she begins to dip into the water. "I think I will join you after all."

The moon comes out just as Vera emerges from the water about fifteen minutes later. Tom has no clue what he has been doing, just standing there this whole time. He sees the moonlight shimmering off her skin, sees the outline of her body as she walks backwards out of the water. She turns to grab her clothes and Tom sees a woman fully naked for the first time. Her figure is just as perfect as he always thought she was.

He's struck with something resembling awe and fascination. Too struck to notice that she is walking toward him now, clothes just held up against her chest.

"Like what you see?" Vera whispers almost directly into his ear, licking her lips for added effect, as she passes him.

Tom can feel himself turn beet red. He quickly trudges back to the library through the nearest door and locks himself away again. He finds himself staring at the big window on the opposite wall, which bears his reflection. He looks like he is floating out over the blackness, and he can't help but to feel like he is. He does not belong here. Their heady restlessness and complete lack of attention to consequences are luxuries he will never have. No matter how much Vera dresses him up with fancy suits and watches, no matter how often Dante calls him old boy, there will always be something that separates Tom from them – something that separates them from everyone else.

It is not just that they are extraordinarily rich, it is that they are rich in a careless way. Her indifference is what makes her spectacular, what has captivated him all these years. In that moment staring at her, he was struck not just by her figure, but by the way she stood, the way she laughed, the way she loved – in both meanings of the word. He wonders if she is passionate and quick-witted in bed too, the way she is when they duel, or if she is slow and sensual, the way she is when she touches him.

Tom can't help but to collapse on the armchair by the window, feeling a tiredness that is both physical and spiritual. He feels like she has worn away all his barriers, made him vulnerable to both her tears and her smiles. He had sworn he would never allow that from anyone, much less from someone so well known for doing that very thing to every boy who crossed her path. He had sworn he would never be one of her heartsick victims.

Yet here he is, staring at her on the beach wiping herself down with the towels she had fetched, and he cannot help but feel the very urges that he has long suppressed. Tom reaches down and unzips his pants, bitting his lips and closing his eyes. He is thinking about their kiss again. He has to admit he has thought of it much too often since it had happened. His hand goes down and he nearly moans. He can swear he actually feels her lips again, like a curse that just keeps coming back. He's fantasizing about them now, in different places all over him. And her hands. The way she had touched him in the common room that night. The gentle way her fingers could trail all over him. And her body. The way her curves glinted in the moonlight. The way she had felt under him in the great hall. He sighs and shudders a little as he lets himself go.

When he has recovered from his efforts, Tom moves toward the couch pushed against the window so that he can sleep. He's thinking about the fact that he hasn't even made one horocrux yet since she gave him that book. He's barely done anything. She's too much of a distraction. He thinks he, well on his way to becoming the most powerful wizard in the world, should be able to resist the coquetry of a mischievous girl. He convinces himself that he hasn't fallen victim to her efforts – that he can still control himself around her. But still, it would probably be best to stay away from her. To banish her from his thoughts and focus on his plans. To stop speaking to her, stop seeing her as much as possible, as soon as this little vacation is over. He doesn't need to continue dealing with Vera's tricks for the rest of the year when he should be dedicating his time and effort to much more important pursuits. He decides that he will simply avoid her, and all thoughts of her, from now on.

Yet all he can think about as he is trying to fall asleep is the fact that he can hear them fucking on the beach.

A/N: This was originally supposed to be two chapters but I cut out a part in the middle that I felt didn't really add substance, so now it's a bit short. This just took a long time to edit because I wasn't really sure what direction I wanted to go in and ended up cutting out a lot of potential scenes. I think this is a pretty heavy chapter – we finally see what's driving Vera's character, and Tom gives into (some of) his desires – so I thought I would post it at this word count anyway.

I tried to fix the tense mix ups this time since I was editing more, please let me know if I missed any! With a lot of chapters, I copy in material I wrote before and write new stuff around it, so that is where those mix ups come from.

I hope you all like the cover I made for the story. Please review because I really take your comments to heart. :)