Chapter 12: Friendly Advice
Tom trudged up the icy steps of the astronomy tower, flakes of snow creating a halo of white on top of his head. As he reached the top of the spiraled staircase, he could see Andersen's figure hunched over and silently weeping. Tom forced himself to take a deep breathe - he would rather fight his basilisk right now. Social interaction wasn't too bad to deal with, all you had to do was lie, but comforting someone who was sobbing out their eyes about their love life was harder to lie about. With his rather stark view on love, he wasn't exactly the best therapist or love doctor. Tom gathered his wits and approached her.
"Andersen?" She turned around and blushed, fervently wiping the tears from her reddened face.
"Riddle." He walked closer, and he mentally forced himself to crouch down next to her.
" . . . I'm not going to bother asking if you're alright, considering the fact that you're crying." Tom watched her face as she almost grinned, but stopped herself. She took on the outlook of a mournful statue and turned away to face the winter wonderland before them.
"Thank you. It's frustrating when people ask that for the sake of politeness. Why are you up here though?" Tom hesitated for a moment, worried about how to answer.
"Pike asked me to check on you. And I'm curious about your relationship with Draco." She nodded.
"Well, at this point, it seems the relationship is nothing more than some ashes from the bridge we burned."
"Yes, but before? When you were younger?" She chuckled.
"Oh, goblins. We hated each other growing up. He practically tormented me everyday. During third year, I punched him square in the jaw because he was being so rude. But recently, I had to start tutoring him, and I saw that he had a kinder side. His parents had a major influence on his treatment of others. I thought that when we came here, he'd be the same as during the tutoring sessions, but I guess not." Tom had to use all the strength he could not to yawn and laugh at her. What a foolish girl! Honestly, once someone is a certain way, they will always be that way. Such a sappy tale, not even the fairytales would write such filth.
"What were you two fighting about though? He was so agitated that he set the Commons Christmas tree on fire and almost fried a number of first years."
"Yes, I heard. Draco is prone to temper tantrums the size of Diagon Alley. Honestly, he can be very childish in that sense. He originally got pissy because I danced with Jonathan, but then . . . Well, it's all very silly, I don't know why I'm crying so much about it."
"I'm no expert on love, but I have often observed that in the best pairings, there is little conflict. When it is, the conflict is major, but still. They tend to smile a lot too. My point is your loved ones shouldn't be bringing you so much pain." She sighed and shook her head.
"You make a good point, Riddle, but I have to disagree. Love is an emotion, and it often centers on extremities; points of extreme happiness, points of extreme sorrow. And it can be a scary notion, that you're giving so much of yourself to one person and that you may not have anything returned or that you lose that part of yourself." Tom's elegant brow furrowed in distaste.
Tom argued, "Then why even bother? It doesn't make sense."
"That's all apart of it. It's a game. You don't always win. But you keep playing because the reward is greater than the any of the downsides." Andersen stood up and gripped the railing. Tom slowly stood and joined her. She gestured over to two birds swirling around together in flight. He black robe sleeve slipped down a little, showing her white sleeved shirt. Through the gossamer fabric, Tom could make out to letters. O. D.
"Andersen?" She turned to him, and he pointed down at her sleeve. Her face turned as white as her shirt and she quickly pulled down her robe sleeve. He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Are you going to explain? She returned a vacant glare. He knew what the word on her arm was, mudblood. "Who did it?" She wrapped her other hand around the scar, like that would make it disappear.
"A terrible woman. Draco's aunt actually. She's one of those who believe that even if you're a half-blood, you aren't good enough. The knife was cursed, so I'm stuck with this." Tom wasn't expecting that. Draco's aunt? And she still wants to date him? She must be loony.
"And after all that he's done, he and his family both, you still waste your time trying to date him?"
"I saw something good, and I thought. . . "
" . . . what? That you could save him?" She nodded. "Andersen, there are certain people in this world beyond salvation. People that are so far from moral grounds that they aren't even human anymore. People who just want to watch the world burn. And we don't want to be saved." She snapped her head around and gave him an astonished look. "Draco and I are kindred devils in a world of kind people like yourself."
She stuttered, confused by his bluntness. "But . . . he. . . how?"
"I can see it when I look at him. There's a particular fire to his eyes that says it all. I'm very familiar with it; I see it everyday when I look in the mirror. I look in the mirror and see a body and name identical to that of a dead man. A body and name I wish to be rid of. I tell myself how I'll overcome all of it, and how those who would harm me or my cause will die screaming."
She looked a little startled, but she was generally placid. She nervously tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. "Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Because when I look at you, I see a good person. A hero. A savior. The kind of person who shouldn't mingle with the soulless, but tries to help them anyway. I'm giving you fair warning: Draco won't change. It's an uphill battle you'll lose every time, no matter how hard you try. You'll be so wounded, perhaps on the verge of depression. You'll take it as a sign that you aren't good enough, even though it's him that isn't good enough. I'm telling you because no one should be hurt like that."
She stood silently for a moment, absorbing all this new information in. "Half blood with a muggle father you despise?" She looked over at him to see his reaction. His face scrunched into a ball of fury, and his rainbow eyes turned an eerie maroon as they turned on her.
"How dare you even-" Andersen cut him off.
"I dare ask. It's only fair after all the prying you've been doing."
"Yes." The confession came out as a searing hiss. She nodded and began to step away from the railing.
"I should get going, it's almost time for dinner.
He stopped her. "The information you stole-"
She cut him off. "I didn't steal anything, thank you very much!"
"It won't leave this room?" His gaze was unforgiving.
"As long as my secret doesn't wander off with you, yes."
"Agreed." He offered out his hand, and she shook it after a moment's hesitation. They pair began to walk down the flight of stairs, not realizing their speedy footsteps were in sync.
"What did you think of the 'classified prophecy' that Pike mentioned?" Hermione asked, trying to make light conversation.
"Impossible. And your thoughts?"
"I believe that the incenses in his room have finally killed all his brain cells." They both laughed, but then Tom abruptly stopped.
"Brain cells?"
"Oh, um. They are neurons, which receive and transport electro-chemical signals throughout the body and help run the brain, according to muggle anatomy."
"I've never heard it explained like that." They had reached the Great Hall, and all the students were trickling in.
"I believe this is where we part ways, Mr. Riddle."
"Enjoy your night, Andersen." She was about to walk away when he lightly grabbed her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Just remember what I said. He isn't worth the heartache. Forget about him." Hermione still felt herself shivering long after he had walked away and sat down at the snake table.
