Oh geez.

So I'm officially out of school! ... NOT. Effing summer school...THE POINT IS:

I've got way more time. It's kind of been nagging at me.

So as much as I say this, I truly intend to finish the effing thing.

I forgot whether it's "Parselmouth" or Parseltongue", or if that's even how you spell it. I figured I'd give you the heads up so that you can snigger and notice how I continue to avoid the word.

Hopefully I don't end up writing anything with a higher level of shittiness.

Beatrice was racing down the hallway. She sprinted into bathroom. "Open it," she demanded.

He merely looked at her questioningly.

"Don't waste my time, Riddle! I know it's in here. Open it." He gave her a warning look. There was shuffling in one of the closer stalls.

"I can't," he said. "I don't know how. And even if I did... there's someone in here--"

"Whoever you are," Beatrice shouted, "Get out! This is important. Get out. Everyone's flooding to their common rooms."

The stall's inhabitant didn't budge.

"Fine, we warned her," she said. "How do we get in?"

Hesitantly, he stepped toward the sinks. "The entrance is here." He sighed.

Quietly, she stood over the sinks. "And you get in...?"

"Salazar Slytherin spoke--"

"Don't say it," she shuddered.

"If you can't hear the word, how can you expect to stomach whatever's down there?" She glared at him and stroked the sinks, pacing around it. The room fell into an awkward silence and then she began to hiss randomly under her breath. Under other circumstances, she would have thought about the silliness of it all, but she was desperate. He sighed once more, and began to hiss beside her.

"GO AWAY!" They heard someone yell.

Beatrice opened her mouth, but Tom shook his head. They can place us here if they recognize our voices.

But I already talked...

Open...

What?

HISSSSSSS. The voice rumbled through her head. She grabbed her ears in vein as the sinks began to open.

"Hello?"

"Bea!" Tom growled. She felt his cold hands around her wrists. The distinct unlocking of a stall door rang through her ears, breaking the hissing off. Beatrice took a deep breath and found herself skidding across the bathroom tile. Disgust might have been her first reaction, had she known what was going on. She was hidden from view now.

"Hello?" The girl sniffed. Myrtle.

Beatrice opened her mouth, unsure of the intent behind it. Before she had a chance to think, a snake came shooting up the sinks. For a moment her voice was lost. Then there was a thud. Her heart stopped.

"TOM!" She screamed. She jumped to her feet to find that he was still standing. It never occurred to her that Myrtle might be dead. The breath came back to her. He grabbed her wrist.

"We need to get out of here," he said quietly. The hissing in her mind was getting louder.

"No! Not without my sister."

"Beatrice, I can tell the professors how to--"

She turned to him. And tell them what? That you can talk to snakes? Without voicing it, merely sending it spiraling into his mind, she jumped over the sinks and down the hole. The snake was going to follow her, she was sure. It's slithering coils against the cement-like tube would be hard not to hear, but it didn't come. Just loud hissing. And then another thud right behind her.

"Oof," the fallen thing said.

There was a bearded man's head at the end of the room, engraved into the wall. There were pillars everywhere...

"The Chamber of Secrets," she whispered. She shook her head and ran as fast as she could, her feet splashing through the room. Beatrice's knees buckled as she saw the stiff body of her sister, the face, the eyes... behind sunglasses. Through tears, she snorted. Of course. Wear sunglasses in doors.

That's how she'd want to be remembered. Humorously. Tom was hovering behind her. He put his hand on the front of her sister's wrist, closing his eyes.

"She's alive," he whispered. "We need to get her out of here." He bit his lip. "I need to get you both back up--"

Beatrice grabbed his hand. He looked into her eyes, and he felt his head spin. He wanted to lean over and puke. The ground was pulled from beneath his feet and he was sent spiraling to who-knows-where. And then the room came back into focus. POP!

A new room.

"Where are we?"

"Hello?" Beatrice yelled.

A black haired woman came bolting down the stairs. "Beatrice?" she sobbed. "Beatrice, your sister--" Her deep brown eyes widened.

"She's gonna be alright, Mom," Beatrice said quickly. "We need...?" She looked at Tom.

"A mandrake," he frowned.

"The screaming thing?" Mrs. Emerski frowned.

"Yeah, Neil's got some in the greenhouse," Beatrice replied, distractedly. She turned one way, shook her head and dashed the other way. Tom merely stood there, staring at the cold body of the girl, attempting to process the events. He didn't understand half of them, but he was perfectly aware of the fact that he and Beatrice had fled the scene of a murder, and also released the beast on the victim. This wasn't something that teachers' good opinions would fix.

Emily Emerski had gotten into her liquor cabinet as soon as the panic kicked in.

Luckily, Neil Emerski, Beatrice's step-dad (and the only father she'd known, incidentally) had shown up from work a few minutes after she and Tom had arrived, got one look at little Isabelle's petrified body, and taken her to the back of the house. He'd just emerged from the room, a relieved smile on his face. "She's going to be fine," he said.

Beatrice nodded. Her face was pale, but she hadn't shed a tear the entire time. "Thanks Neil."

"How did you find her?" He frowned.

"Uh..."

Neil eyed her.

"She was in the Chamber of Secrets," Beatrice said. "We broke in, we saved her--" Neil put his hands up in the air.

Emily Emerski turned to Tom, breathing her liquor-breath onto him. "Who are you?"

"This is Tom," Beatrice replied. Her mother smirked. "My friend."

"Friend?" Tom snickered under his breath. Hardly.

Well I can't exactly introduce you as the bane of my existance, can I? THAT'D be great. 'This is Tom, the asshole...'

Neil grunted, "Uh, nice to meet you, Tom. I wish it had been under better circumstances."

"Yes," Tom nodded. "I'm sorry, by the way, about everything. I'm glad to hear that Isabelle will be okay, though--"

"So when did you two start seeing each other?" Emily hiccuped.

Beatrice glared. "We haven't." Tom smirked at her. "We won't either."

"No need to be unfriendly," her mother said coldly. "Don't cover up for us Beatrice. Are you Tom Riddle?"

Beatrice groaned.

"Yes, I am," Tom said pleasantly.

"I've heard so much about you," she continued. "Beatrice bitches about you enough--"

"Thanks, Mom."

"Emily, I think that's enough," Neil said quickly. He glanced at Tom appologetically. "While your sister's recovering, you're welcome to stay, Beatrice-- you too, Tom, if you think it would be alright with your parents."

"My parents are dead actually," Tom said. Beatrice stared at him incredulously.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, it's nothing," Beatrice said flatly, glaring at Tom. "But I think we should head back, actually--"

"I'd love to stay," Tom said.

"Great," Neil smiled, tired. "I think you guys need a break after... everything."

"But the school," Beatrice interjected. "We need to-"

"I'll take care of it," Neil said. "You're right though. Besides, you'll need some spare clothes-- and however you got here, I don't want to know, but... I'll take you both back. Get some spare clothes. We'll come up with a story, and you two can have a rest here for a bit."

"What did you do that for?" Beatrice growled. She was laying on the grass, glaring up at the smug boy on the hammock. It was weird, seeing him out of his school clothes. He looked much more laid back. Even for an uptight, overbearing, controlling, vindictive...

"Dunno," he replied lazily.

"What, are you that curious about what it feels like to be part of a family?"

He chuckled. "You're just afraid I'm going to hear what you say about me."

"Want me to tell you?"

"Sure."

"I called you a self absorbed, obnoxious, incredibly--"

"Handsome?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "See, this is why I want you nowhere near my family. You're already driving me mad. Isn't that enough?"

"That's your own fault. I can't help it if you're in love with me." She flicked her wand and he flipped out of the hammoch.

She smirked.

"If you wanted me to lay down near you that badly, all you had to do was ask."

She looked him in the eye, stood up, and stormed into the house. "Ugh!"

He chuckled after her.

"DINNER-- Oh good," Emily said. "Beatrice, I have this horrible headache--"

"Then don't drink," Beatrice snapped.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Beatrice, sometimes I need to. It's to calm my nerves. It's not as if I enjoy the stuff. Now go and get that nice 'friend' of yours." She grinned at her daughter. "Go on."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "RIDDLE, DINNER." Then under her breath, she grunted as he passed her, "I hope you choke on it..."

He helped set the table. It was as if he'd been there and she was the intruder. Neil took to him quickly, as he often did with anything that was made up with a majority of testosterone. Living with Emily had done that to him. The two talked, at first with Neil's interrogating, and later about the wizarding world. Neil had a lot of connections, and so many that even Tom seemed impressed. Beatrice observed her mother, sneaking sips of heavy liquor when she didn't think anyone was looking. Her fear for Isabelle had not yet subsided. Beatrice was sure that, if it had been her, Emily would have been much calmer. But Isabelle was the baby. As much as her mother loved them both, she thought Beatrice was much more capable of taking care of herself. Even when it was ridiculous, her mother had always expected Beatrice to be independent.

The only time she had to speak at dinner was to censor her mother if Neil didn't catch it quick enough. Otherwise, Beatrice was left to think about what had passed without interruption. Tom hadn't bothered to prod her into speaking. He was much too fascinated in Neil, and besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't just pop into her head himself. At that precise moment, Tom looked more human than she'd ever seen him. His elbow was on the table, arm straight up, and he leaned his head against his unclenched fist. He nodded on occasion, but there was nothing professional about this Tom. He smiled here and there, but mostly it was in his eyes. They would tighten a little, and seem more vivid and pronounced like the rest of him usually was. His hair was untidy about his face. He had the top buttons of his shirt undone. Not enough to show anything, thankfully, she reminded herself. It wasn't tucked into his pants, either. He seemed too casual to be the Tom that she knew.

But then, she was slightly-less-uptight-Beatrice, here at home. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and falling out in varios parts. She had a huge t-shirt on and baggy shorts. The first thing Tom had said when he saw her was "Well that's attractive. Why don't you wear that to school? You'd have even more boys after you."

She had replied smugly, "I don't want them to notice if I start to show."

That had shut him up. She smiled to herself, remembering.

"Anyone up for desert?" Her mother was asking.

"No thanks," Beatrice said. "I'm gong to bed. Long day..."

"Alright," Emily smiled, hiccuping. "How about you Tuh-om?"

Tom declined politely, faking a yawn and insisting he was tired as well. He thanked her parents for the dinner and then followed her upstairs. She didn't say a word to him. He shrugged and retired to the guest room, laying back on the bed and sighing. It had been a weird day, but a good one. It was nice going somewhere that wasn't Hogwarts or the orphanage. Hogwarts was great. It was his real home, but Tom had never realized just how much he needed a change of scenery until he got it. He stretched out, sprawled across the bed lazily. And then he heard class shatter.

POP!

Beatrice jerked around, wand out. "Oh, it's just you," she said, turning her back to him. Her room was not what he'd expected. The blinds were shut, which allowed very little light into the room. Had it been allowed to shine through, however, it would've been a very open room. The walls were light blue, though currently covered in shadows. There was a large bookshelf in the corner, a white desk, and a big bed with lacy comforters.

"Nice sheets," he said.

She sighed. "Tom, get out."

"Are you... alright?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. He nodded.

"Alright, well... if ya need anything Emerski," he began casually.

She cut him off. "It's my house," she reminded him.

"... right. Well, even still."

"Thank you," she said stiffly, somewhat annoyed.

He shrugged. "Don't say I didn't try."

"I won't," she snapped. He apparated back into the guest room and lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

He was uncertain how long he'd been asleep. Regardless, it was much darker outside, now. Everything was completely silent. He decided to look around a bit, considering this might be his only chance to do so. But Tom had barely gotten to the edge of the stairs by the time he heard it. There was distinct sniffling noise. He paused and listened. Okay, so... sniffling, and the occasional shudder.

Groaning, he knocked on Beatrice's door.

"Yes Neil?" She asked, barely hiding her impatience.

Tom opened the door. "Knock, knock," he said lightly.

"Oh god," she whispered to herself. "Tom, not now, please?"

"Look at me."

"No," she snapped. "What for?"

"Are you crying?"

She induced a snort. "No."

"Yes you are."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it with you, clearly, so--"

He shut the door and walked over to where she'd been huddled on the floor. She was sitting, her back against the side of the bed, hugging her knees, a blanket falling off of her. He flipped the slipping portion back onto her gently and put his arm on her shoulder.

"Why are you crying?"

She looked up at him, angry. Her eyes were red and puffy, and, as is characteristic of someone who's been crying, still wet. A tear was leaking down her cheek as she offered the glance. She was trying to supress it, as was evident by her shudder.

"Am I that repulsive?" He joked.

She snorted through her tears. "No, no," she smiled. "Really, I'm fine. I just, wow... I must look like a baby right now, but really, it's not that I'm crying."

"Oh, your eyes are just wet?" He asked, still gently.

"No, I mean, I had an eyelash, see--"

"Even you wouldn't believe a lie like that."

She offered him a small smile. "Thank you?"

He sat, cross legged, across from her. "Now, are you going to make me sit here for the rest of the night, or are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Now, Beatrice glared at him. Her green eyes looked more dangerous than usual. "Well," she began stiffly, "I think I saw Myrtle die. You nearly died, I thought my sister was dead..." She stopped and put her face into her knees.

"Hey, hey," he said quietly, closing eyes, supressing the memories himself, "No. Myrtle... she didn't leave. You tried. You told her to leave."

"I should've tried harder. And then my sister..." She shook, still speaking into the blankets.

He smiled. "She's going to be okay, remember? Neil, your dad--"

"He's not my dad," she said. "He's my step-dad."

"Okay, well Neil," he continued, "said she'd be fine. And she wouldn't be if you hadn't gotten to her in time, alright? You saved your sister."

There was another choked sob.

"She's okay. She's down stairs. Do you want to go look? I can take you right now--"

She shook her head.

"Okay. I can, though."

"Thanks," she shuddered into her blanket.

"Now," he said uncomfortably, "What is this about me dying?"

"The thud," she said into her blanket. "I heard it, I thought it was you. Twice I heard it."

"That wasn't me, it was--" he paused. "Do you see me? Right here? I'm fine, see? I'm here, right now, with you. I'm right in front of you, Bea. Okay? Don't worry about me." He was rambling.

She snorted into her blanket again.

"Okay, well if you aren't worried about me, then--"

"No," she said, looking up. "No, I'll admit it. You helped me-- I didn't want to owe you like that, you know. Your death will not be on my hands."

Tom rolled his eyes.

"Not unless you really asked for it," she added jokingly.

"Are you going to be alright?" He asked, sitting beside her. She nodded and leaned on him. "Do you want me to stay here?"

"You don't have to," she said quietly.

He glared at her.

She glared back.

"Fine," he said.

"Fine." He put his arm around her in one swift, annoyed movement, bringing his knees closer to himself. She jerked the blanket a little and draped it in an annoyed fashion on top of him. Huffing, she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. He tilted his head slightly.

There was a knock at the door. She jumped back and Tom disentangled himself from her.

"Hey Bea?" It was Emily.

"Yeah?" Beatrice called back, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"I'm okay with Tom being in there as long as you keep your underwear on, okay?" Beatrice threw a flower vase at the door.

"I'm okay with the bra, though-- Goodnight Sweetie!-- Don't tell Neil," her mother chuckled. Beatrice groaned.

"She doesn't mean that, you know," Beatrice grunted. "That is... she doesn't suspect much, except that I must secretly love you or something. She trusts me too much."

"Or she knows I don't find you attractive," Tom replied, smiling.

She put her hands on her hips. "You're always the charmer, aren't you? It's a wonder you don't have a girlfriend by now."

"Goodnight," he smirked, bowing out of the doorway. "Are you going to be okay with out me?"

"I think I'll manage," she replied sarcastically. "Goodnight." She closed the door behind him and threw herself onto her bed. She looked at her hands and then shoved her head into the pillow, avoiding the temptation to scream. I don't hate Tom Riddle, she admitted to herself. I'm going to hell.

... CAN YOU TELLLLL I had no idea how to end this?

Anyway. To the point. (HA yeah right. Cause III would never get sidetracked.)

Okay, so I lied. I don't have a serious bone in my body. I have the distinct feeling that these serious chapters are going to have lots of rude interruptions.

MY BAD. I just can't do it. I feel sad when I write sad.

Basically, I wrote this and now it's 4:30. I haven't read ALL of it, but it's here, so you don't think that I forgot about the story. I HAVEN'T. It's haunted me for, what? a year now? So there we go. I WANT TO FINISH.

As per usual, I will love you and be faithfully yours forever and ever if you would please review.

Even to tell me how to fix it. Again, nothing new, I'm totally going to leave this as "not permanent" because, really, it's not.

I'm just too tired to read it. And we leave EARLY tomorrow for some stuff, so I'll be home late.

Assuming I've got the energy (let's face it, I'm going to re-read it as soon as I'm up if I have the time; I'm that neurotic about this sort of thing) I will fix it where you guys think it needs to be fixed. I appologize for the delay. I've got less of an excuse not to post than eveeeer so hopefully I'll get the damned thing done soon.

OH! And I know about the non-apparating thing. I villl explain later?

Bye sirsss.