Tom looked like an attentive, caring presence on the outside. But Hattie knew better. Paranoia that Tom knew of the letters from her Aunt was tearing her apart. She had no reason to believe it to be the case but Tom always knew more than he let on.
On top of that, the memory of their aggressive heart to heart sent her into a tailspin. Hattie woke sweating in the night, screaming, imagining Tom hung her from the rafters at his orphanage. Ada and Charlotte would wake and simply stare before turning over to go back to sleep.
Occasionally, Charlotte would send her a sympathetic smile but she mostly looked betrayed.
Vera Ogden was a different story.
"Selwyn," Ogden heaved her downy pillow at Hattie's tear coated face. The pillow connected and knocked her off balance, sending her slipping off the bed. Floor met skin with a heavy thud and a slew of profanities from Hattie.
"Really, Ogden?" Hattie's head poked over the side of the bed. She grasped the blankets for support as she crawled back in bed. It was less demure than intended. She slipped and slid as she clawed her way back to a reasonable position on the bed.
"This is the third night in a row. Get a Dreamless Sleep Draught, you idiot," Ogden stormed over to Hattie and ripped the pillow from her bed with a huff. "I don't want to lose sleep because you can't handle some stupid dreams."
"Alright, I'll make you a deal," Hattie sat cross-legged on the bed. The fogginess of sleep was leaving her and the cogs in her mind turned. "You make sure Hornby leaves Myrtle alone and I'll get a Dreamless Sleep Draught."
"Who?" Ogden's face twisted in disgust at the antiquated name. It sounded like something her Grandmother would have been named.
Hattie threw her arms in the air. They fell and hit her knees with a stinging slap. Ogden rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
"Myrtle Warren," Hattie raised her eyebrows, waiting for some form of recognition. "The Ravenclaw? Pigtails? No? Nothing?"
"Oh," Vera sneered. "The weird one?" Vera pursed her lips in disgust and wrapped herself in a blanket from her bed. One downside to chilly nights in the Slytherin dungeon was the risk of freezing accidentally in the night.
"Sure," Hattie fluffed her pillow, intent on forgetting it and going back to sleep. It had been worth a try.
A few silent, but tense moments passed between the two. Ogden cocked her head, thinking, and Hattie watched with suspicion.
"I don't know why Tom wastes his time on you," Vera leaned against her fore poster with a smug look on her angled face. It infuriated Hattie that she was still pretty while scowling. Everything would have been easier if she wasn't as good looking as she is. Why couldn't she look a little inbred like Walburga Black? "You just hang out with freaks."
"And I don't know why you broke your engagement with Malfoy last year for a chance with Tom," Hattie turned her head slowly to gauge Vera's reaction. "I wouldn't guess a half-blood would outrank a pure-blooded Malfoy in your family's eyes."
"Unfortunately, Hattie," Vera pushed off the fore poster with a practiced grace. "Some of us have parents we need to think about. They see Tom's potential and so do I."
"Shut up, Ogden," Ada shot up in her bed and sent a warning look Vera's direction. Her hair tangled disastrously in the back and she look like she hadn't slept all night. Her eyes were heavy and her voice cracked with each word.
"It's fine, Ada," Hattie silenced her with an outstretched hand. "I don't believe for a second your parents encouraged you sever ties with the Malfoys when the fancy to snog Tom struck."
"You're a bitch," Vera said cheerfully. "You know that?"
"What part of shut up don't you understand?" Ada grabbed her wand and lunged forward on her bed to shove her wand in the delicate skin at Ogden's neck. "Are you as dumb as you are entitled?"
"Everybody, stop," Charlotte held her hands out wide. Bedding tangled around her as she struggled to sit up. Ada ripped her wand from Ogden's neck and turned towards Charlotte. Hattie kept her eyes trained on Ogden, scared she would move for Ada while her wand was down.
"Fine," Ogden returned to her bed with a huff. "I'll tell Olive to annoy somebody else. But only if you get something for your annoying nightmares."
"Deal," Hattie looked over at Ada who could level cities with the look in her eyes. "Thanks I-"
"Don't talk to me," Ada flipped over in bed to face away from Hattie.
Meals weren't much better. Charlotte and Ada distanced themselves from Hattie, but she knew they were watching; Just like everybody else nowadays. Her concern for wandering eyes was growing by the day. Being around Tom made people notice her and people noticing meant a higher chance of discovery. All she wanted was to sink back into the shadows and be at peace with her miserable task.
Usually it was Tom and Hattie together at meals without his goons. But today something was different. Hattie sat with Tom and the lot of his followers. He didn't shoo them away as usual and with them was Ada and Charlotte.
Lestange pushed a strand of Ada's raven black hair behind her ear and whispered something only they could hear. She looked at him with a slightly open mouth and burst into genuine laughter. Lestrange smirked and looked over at Avery who was trying to ignore them completely. Red in the face and grasping his cutlery tight, Avery watched from the distance. Both Lestrange and Hattie knew he had seen. Ada was none the wiser, focused entirely on the man next to her.
Tom placed a hand against Hattie's lower back and turned his head away from the table to speak quietly in her ear. It wouldn't have mattered. At least half the table watched this new development between Lestrange and Ada. But something Hattie had quickly learned about Tom was reticence epitomized his lifestyle.
"They're certainly something, aren't they?" Tom's voice sent a shock of ice down her spine, coagulating right where his fingers played in her robe.
Hattie frowned at him and shook her head. She wasn't about the share any information about Ada with Tom, even if they weren't currently speaking.
"You put him up to this?" Hattie hissed and kicked his calf under the table.
He frowned at her and grabbed tight to the fabric at her back.
"I'd advise you not to kick me again," Tom's voice darkened.
"I'd advise you not to cause problems for my friends," Hattie mocked his warning tone. She considered sticking her tongue out at him but she was too furious for humor. "You know her situation."
Having Tom interfere with Ada's terrible situation was something Hattie wouldn't allow.
A fire burned in Tom's eyes and he used his free hand to grab her leg right above her knee. The only thing between his hand and her skin were her thin tights. He pushed his thumb under the hem of her skirt, never breaking eye contact. She flushed and stared in momentary shock at his impropriety.
"Shove off, Riddle," Hattie said loudly enough for the group to hear. She pushed him away and stood indignantly.
Tom's gaze chilled to a warning look and Hattie grabbed her bag from the ground and stormed out of the Great Hall.
Charlotte watched her go, having seen the entirety of Tom and Hattie's exchange. She stood quickly to watch Hattie rush from the hall.
"Sit down," Ada tugged on Charlotte's cardigan. Charlotte looked between Ada and the now empty Great Hall entrance. She slowly sat and turned back to Nott to continue their conversation.
Tom stared past the group towards the rocky wall. He sat deathly still momentarily before standing with a scowl and following Hattie's path out of the Great Hall.
He rushed down to the Slytherin Dormitory but Hattie was nowhere to be found. Tom had something to say when he saw her again. Nobody disrespected him that way in front of his followers. Not even Hattie.
Hattie ran to the only person she could think to confide in. Dumbledore might actually understand, as much as it pained her to admit. Even if all Tom did was lightly threaten her and make her sick to her stomach.
As she hurried through the chilly corridors, something painful occurred to her. She really hadn't gotten anywhere with Tom.
Hattie knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office and it opened. Running in at breakneck speed, Hattie forwent pleasantries and jumped right into her concern.
"He's not biting, sir. He hasn't mentioned a single thing about a plot or plan," They'd only had a horrific heart to heart that Hattie wasn't keen on repeating. She dropped into her spot at the fireplace hit and her head against the back of the plush armchair.
Dumbledore's office filled with the warmth from the fire. November brought an unprecedented chill and Hattie felt like she would never be warm again. This fire made a difference. Perhaps Dumbledore charmed it specifically for that purpose.
"And I can't find anything on him in the future. His name doesn't show up anywhere," Looking through ministry archives, history books, and news articles had been fruitless. Tom Riddle was like a ghost.
Dumbledore didn't appear fazed by her sudden interruption and declaration. In fact, he seemed pleasantly surprised she had visited.
"Perhaps a different approach is in order," Dumbledore handed Hattie a steaming cup of tea which she took readily. She had grown more comfortable around the old man over the past few months but she was still wary of the latent concern in his eyes. As desperately as he tried to hide it, he didn't fully trust her.
Hattie sipped her tea and stared into the crackling fire. Part of her wanted an ember to land on the carpet and burn the castle down. Then she wouldn't need to deal with Tom again. Dying in a physical fire felt better than perishing in the fire that was Tom Riddle.
Dumbledore sat patiently as Hattie contemplated her options. She knew that Tom wouldn't be pleased with the way they just parted ways. She needed to act fast before Tom lost interest or got tired of her challenging him.
For the first time, she tried to delve into the mind of Tom Riddle. Analyze his intentions. Do more than just react to him; She needed to anticipate him.
"Sir," Hattie's eyes lit up. "What's the most horrific book in the Restricted Section?"
The heart to heart had suddenly given her an idea.
The silence was stifling. Dumbledore gave a concerned look from behind his half-moon spectacles, trying to decide whether the book was for her task or her personally. He looked into his tea, thinking.
"I need something worse than what you gave me at beginning of term," Hattie tapped tea cup rim. "I've looked through them all and it's not what I need."
"Secrets of the Darkest Arts would be an option," Dumbledore offered carefully. "What do you want with that book in particular?"
"I want him to catch me," Hattie placed her tea down and stood. She pressed her hands to her mouth and paced the pleasantly warm room. Moving improved her thinking; At least she felt less trapped when she did. "I've tried coy and I've tried brash. I haven't tried intentionally giving Tom the upper hand. Or at least making him think so. He knows I'm up to something, but he doesn't know what."
"You want to show him you've long been interested in the Dark Arts," Dumbledore nodded. "If he hasn't confided anything in you yet, this might just do it."
"Exactly," Hattie rocked on the balls of her feet. "I'll make it look like I made a mistake. And it has to be with something more advanced than An Introduction to the Dark Arts."
But I already have made a mistake, she said to herself.
She lacked so much control around Riddle she was liable to spit out her darkest secrets any day now. She'd already told him about her destructive tendencies. If she said much more, it would be disastrous and she couldn't play it off as anything mundane. Tom didn't miss anything.
"You fear him seeing an introductory book would look too contrived, too intentional."
"Yes," Hattie swallowed considering the consequences of Tom catching on to her little plan with Dumbledore. "He's too smart not to see right through it."
"I agree," Dumbledore sighed and the pair sat in companionable silence until Hattie plucked up the courage to go deal with an angry Tom.
By mid-November, Hattie still hadn't spoken to Ada and Charlotte since the night in the dormitory with Ogden. They were all too stubborn. Only Charlotte's resolve wavered. It was torturous having nobody to speak with besides Tom and sometimes his followers.
Then there was the issue of proving to Tom that she could give him valuable information. He still hadn't said a thing about their agreement. He was biding his time and it infuriated Hattie. She wanted to scream in his face, curse him, and kick him more than she already had. But Hattie still remembered his warning from earlier in the year to never turn her wand against him. She imagined Tom's fury was deadly. If she struck, he would strike back twice as hard.
Hattie was antsy so she spent her time reading some of the vilest books she could find. She read Secrets of the Darkest Arts thrice by the morning she planned to lure Tom in. More than once the book made her physically ill. But if she played this role, she needed to have a broad knowledge of the subject.
Usually she and Tom met at the Great Hall for breakfast but she had a different idea this morning. Hattie woke at five and tossed on her uniform. She had pilfered the dreaded book from the Restricted Section and hoped Dumbledore would intervene if Madam Pince noticed.
The Common Room was deserted in the early morning and Hattie took her spot in Tom's favorite chair, knowing that alone could cause a blowout. Nobody dared sit in his chair. Except Hattie, of course.
If the impending confrontation went her way, she would play the role of a girl caught in the act of something unspeakable. Hopefully Tom would buy it. If he didn't - well, she would deal with that if it occurred. No reason to worry about the worst possible outcome now.
Hattie flipped through Secrets of the Darkest Arts, pretending to be so enthralled she was lost to the world.
Tom came down the stairs at five thirty sharp and Hattie stiffened. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked her direction with mild interest. Tom checked the room. After deciding it was empty, made his way to Hattie.
"Hattie," Tom stood before her and Hattie jumped up, eyes wide. His gaze darted between hers and the book in her hands.
"Tom," Hattie shoved the book in her cloak and stumbled over the side of the chair. "When did you wake up?" She attempted to maneuver her way around him but he caught her waist.
Really, she chided herself. That was the best she could come up with?
"I don't bite," Tom smirked as he pulled Hattie into him. Her hands were wrapped tight around herself, corralling the book from view.
"That's not what Vera told us last year," Hattie's jaw tightened. She was terrible at this. She's ruin everything if she couldn't keep her damn attitude in check. "She told us all how - active - you are with your mouth. In great detail."
Damn it, she thought to herself. She blew it. Not that it was a lie, but now wasn't the time to bring up Vera and his tongue.
"Did she?" Tom seemed halfway amused by the comment. "Would you like to share the book you're unsuccessfully attempting to hide from me?" He looked down at her and ran a hand under her cloak and around her lower back, pulling her flush against him.
The uncomfortable fire in Tom's veins returned as he felt her chest rise and fall against him.
Hattie looked down to shield her excitement. He bit.
"Not in the least," Hattie looked up and held the book tight against her but Tom's hand ran up her side and tugged at the binding. Hattie gasped when he dipped his head to run his lips down her neck. When her grip slackened, Tom grabbed the book, holding it high out of her reach.
"How mature, Tom," Hattie panted. "Give me the damn book and I won't tell anybody what you did to me that morning before Divination in September."
Honestly, she'd never tell a soul he'd cornered her against a wall, but having something over Riddle was an excellent opportunity she couldn't pass up. This was going far too well.
"You're blackmailing me?" Tom drawled and pushed his free hand against Hattie's stomach, backing her slowly into the wall, exactly like he did that day at Divination. He looked past her, thinking, and then flicked his gaze back to her with a smirk.
"Yes," Hattie gritted her teeth, trying to push down the churning in her stomach she got each time Tom touched her. "Did you expect less?"
"I did," Tom gave her a devilish grin and pulled the book back around, reading the title. His mouth fell open and he slowly turned his head back to Hattie. This time the shock on her face wasn't contrived. The fire in Tom's eyes from the past months was no longer a budding flame; It was a wildfire. "Secrets of the Darkest Arts. You're impressing me more every second. And note, I don't say that lightly."
"Have you read it?" Hattie grabbed his cloak and held him tight against her. The way he was looking at her was so foreign and stunning she wanted to pull him down and kiss him in the middle of the Common Room, onlookers be damned. Tom looked at her like everything suddenly made sense.
Hattie was suddenly in too deep.
Tom shook his head that he had not. "This is what you've been doing the past year?"
"Are you going to blackmail me in return?" Hattie dragged her hand up to his collar and grabbed tight, pulling him down towards her. She pulled him so close his lips were dangerously near her own. She could feel his warm breath against her lips and every nerve ending urged her to just move a few centimeters farther.
"Perhaps. You can't even fathom everything I'm going to do to you Hattie Selwyn," Tom said nearly against her lips. "Follow me, I'd like to show you something."
Hattie deflated when Tom let her go. He grabbed her wrist and egged her forward.
"You're not reporting me to Dippet?" Hattie's brows creased in disbelief. She looked back towards the girl's dorms, fearing somebody would walk down any moment. They really needed somewhere more private than the library and Common Room.
"Dippet?" Tom stepped backwards out of the Common Room and pulled Hattie with him. "That old fool has no clue what goes on under his nose in this school."
"What are you talking about?" Genuine fear rose in Hattie's strained voice.
"I told you I would show you," Tom snapped. "Come or don't. It's your choice."
"Dear God, I'll be dead in a week," Hattie whispered under her breath as she followed Tom into the unknown.