Tom watched Hattie stand, hands against her hips, staring at the wall on the 7th floor. How had he not seen it before? The monster lurking beneath her pristine surface, not much unlike his own. She was nearly as brilliant at hiding it as him. How he failed for over four years to notice was unfathomable to him. The way she held herself, the way she spoke, the gritty disregard she had for most everybody else was a mirror of himself. But she cared deeply for Bellchant and Prewett, which he couldn't say about his Knights. That was their difference and her weakness. She cared.
Hattie shielded her dark interests from everybody, if perhaps not Dumbledore. That's why he'd suddenly kept such a close eye on her, Tom thought. Hattie let something slip. She was rash and unrestrained at times. It was likely she said or did something at the wrong moment and everything unraveled.
Tom let out a breath and took in her form. She was taller than a year ago, nearly reaching to his shoulder. Even in her frumpy school robes she was quite a site. That fire in his blood rose again and he fought back the urge to push her against the wall like they had been moments before. She'd pulled his face to hers and he'd been certain she would kiss him. But she hadn't. Luckily he'd stopped it before he lost control himself and initiated.
With Ogden last term it had been easy. He didn't care a lick about her. But with Hattie, there was something else there. A dark, repressed feeling of wanting like he'd never experienced before. It wasn't convenience, it was desire. Exactly why he'd distanced himself before. If he had any feelings whatsoever towards Hattie, he gave her a dangerous tool.
"Tom," Hattie called over her shoulder. "You wanted to show me a wall? I'm enthused but I think you're losing it."
"Walk back and forth three times."
Hattie's mouth fell open in disbelief. She threw out her arms in frustration but nonetheless obeyed.
A gilt door materialized before her and she gaped, looking back to ensure Tom saw this too. He simply smirked and motioned for her to go inside.
She remained rooted in place like a tree fighting against a hurricane. Her eyes traced around the edge of the door and she reached out to run a hand over the intricate detailing.
"Are you going to move or do I need to carry you inside?" Tom strode past Hattie and threw open the door.
With a warning look, Hattie stepped past him, dragging her hand across the prefect badge on his chest as passed the threshold.
He sucked in a breath of air and grabbed for her waist, tossing the door shut behind them.
"You're brilliant at playing with fire," Tom pulled her into his chest and buried his face in the crook between her neck and shoulders.
Hattie circled her arms around his waist in response.
"Is this why you took me here?" Hattie asked cautiously as he ran his mouth up her neck and near her ear.
"No," Tom took a haggard breath and stepped back, gently pushing Hattie's arms from her waist. "I want you to see what I've been doing the past few years."
"What?" Hattie said too aggressively. Her racing heart beat so hard against her ribs she was certain Tom could hear it. She wasn't sure if the sudden spike was from learning about Tom's plans or touching him. Hattie begged for it to be the former.
"Unless you don't want to see," Tom motioned towards the couch. "We could return to what we were just doing instead."
"Tempting," Hattie admitted. But she still had sense enough to snag the opportunity to see what Tom was up to. "But I want you to show me what you're working on."
"Of course," Tom rushed towards a gaudy oak desk sitting in the right hand corner of the room. Hattie watched the way he walked. There was a spring in his step she had never seen before. He was excited.
Tom dug through a few drawers, grabbing various books and pieces of parchment, piling them high on the desk.
"Hattie," Tom snapped in her direction to get her attention.
"Don't snap at me like a dog," Hattie grabbed a stack of notes from the couch Tom had pointed to previously. "Do it again and I'll set your notes on fire."
"Fine," Tom spun on his heel and held his arms out in a grandiose gesture. "Would you be so kind as to grace me with your presence, Ms. Selwyn?"
"Not before I burn these notes," Hattie flipped through the pages admiring the extensive work Tom had clearly put into it. She poked the paper with her wand threateningly. "Didn't you just say I'm brilliant at playing with fire?
"You wouldn't dare," Tom held out a warning hand as Hattie ran circled with her wand over the paper.
"Wouldn't I?"
"Do it and I'll kick you out and never let you back in."
Tom watched the intent disappear from Hattie's eyes and smirked as her resolve faded. Clearly she wanted to know what he'd been studying more than she wanted to cross him.
"Whatever," Hattie tossed the notes on the floor in a small act of defiance and joined Tom at the desk. "Show me."
His desk was covered in writings old and new. Many of the books were so aged, they were bound by tied leathery strips. Tom ran a gentle hand over the closest book that looked at least a few centuries old.
"Look at this," He commanded, handing Hattie the book and taking Secrets of the Darkest Arts from his bag. Hattie watched him place it in a drawer in the desk but said nothing.
The book Tom handed her crinkled and cracked as she opened the front cover. Stunning script coated the yellowing pages. There was very little structure to the writing and Hattie's eyes almost glazed over as she browsed the pages. It looked more like a journal than a proper book.
Tom waited patiently for Hattie's reaction as he lounged against the desk, arms crossed. Content letting her figuring it out on her own.
They were silent as Hattie looked through the book, reading random passages. Much of it was about seemingly ancient magic that didn't make much sense. The English was undeniably old. It barely read like the same language. Hattie huffed in frustration and then she saw four names that made her gasp.
"This is about the founding of Hogwarts?" Hattie held the book closer as if keeping it safe from any harm the air around it would bring. "I've never seen something like this in the library."
"Of course you haven't," Tom pushed off from the desk and went to stand beside Hattie. "I didn't get it from the Hogwarts library. Look here."
Tom flipped carefully towards the back of the bound parchment. He pointed down at a specific line and Hattie read through.
"You're researching the founders specifically?" Hattie said, reading about the beginnings of the founder's time at Hogwarts.
It was so disappointing, she wanted to toss the book back and tell him she was done. If this was all he was doing, Dumbledore had been wrong and Tom was just unnaturally interested in wizarding history.
"Yes, but that's just the beginning," Tom pulled the book from Hattie's and handed her a more recent publication. "Unsurprisingly, there are forms of magic not practiced anymore, for various reasons. They've been lost or intentionally suppressed because they scare people."
Hattie never imagined she would experience the interest suddenly sparked in her. It was a curiosity so deep and visceral she couldn't contain it. She flew through the pages looking at everything she could find. Unimaginably dangerous magic filled the book. If this was in the Restricted Section she would eat her hat. It made Secrets of the Darkest Arts look like child's play. But something about it was alluring, dangerously so. The spells weren't gory or horror-filled. It was more sinister than physical harm. Most of it was psychological. The book reverberated power, making her fingers tingle with latent magic she assumed seeped from the pages.
"Salazar Slytherin spent quite a bit of his time researching and experimenting," Tom wrapped a hand around Hattie's waist and looked at the book over her shoulder. "A lot of these papers and books are his work."
"He looks brilliant," Hattie flipped page after page of research notes, potions, and spells.
"He pushed the boundaries of magic," Tom sounded almost proud of Slytherin's accomplishments. Like they affected him in some way. "I'm going to do the same. I'll follow in his footsteps."
"Doing what, exactly?" Hattie looked up at Tom whose eyes were aglow with a passion she'd never seen him display.
He bent down, arm still around her waist to whisper into her ear. His breathing seemed louder than usual in the deathly silent room.
"Becoming the greatest wizard this world has seen since Salazar Slytherin himself," Tom parted his lips and Hattie sighed at the feeling of his warm breath against her face. "And you're going to help me."
Tom ran his fingers leisurely up and down her side.
He was so persuasive, Hattie knew with every bit of her soul she would have done anything he wanted in that moment. Their physical proximity scorched her and rebuilt her from the ashes. The way he spoke made everything sound possible at his side as long as she believed in him and his cause.
"I'll help you," Hattie whispered. Tom's hair fell into her face and she stepped out of his embrace before she lost herself further. She could never lose control around Riddle. To do so could be a deadly mistake.
"Good," Tom put a hand out for the book and Hattie complied. "Now tell me why you're seeking out books like Secrets of the Darkest Arts."
"Morbid curiosity," Hattie shrugged, forcing a casual demeanor. "Also, I've already told you, I like learning things beyond the Hogwarts curriculum. I think there's value in learning everything you can. You never know when that information will be needed."
"That's not all," Tom countered, reaching for her hands to drag Hattie forward. He curled a hand around the side of her neck to force her to look up at him with his thumb under her chin. "There's something else."
Hattie stared him down, knowing he was trying to get inside her head. She breathed out, hoping her thoughts would go with it. A light tingling in the back of her skull alerted her that he'd gotten in. She shoved him away hard and broke eye contact. The prickling in her head dissipated but a sick feeling took hold of her stomach.
"Stay the hell out of my head," Hattie balled her fists to control her shaking. He hadn't tried in months to break in. Clearly he hadn't developed the trust in her she believed he had.
"If you have nothing to hide you'll have no problem letting me in," Tom stepped up to her again and this time grabbed her neck with both hands. It wasn't painful but it was infuriating. Hattie grabbed his neck in return with the same hold he had on her.
Tom immediately stumbled back and rubbed his neck like Hattie's touch caused him pain.
"Alright," Hattie put her hands out in front of her. "You stay out of my head and I'll help you with whatever it is you want to do. I wouldn't let anybody in my head. Not even my mother."
Tom seemed sobered by their sudden blowout. "How do I know I can trust you?"
"You don't," Hattie said practically. She frowned before continuing. "My family's studied dark magic for generations. Selwyns love their research. I'm doing the work my father and mother started before they died. I'm drawn to unpleasant things. It makes me feel something. And I haven't felt almost anything since my mother died."
Hattie whispered the last bit, realizing none of what she said was a lie. The darker parts of humanity had always fascinated her. It's what made her set her dining room on fire as a child and made her embrace such a sticky, unethical thing as time travel for personal gain.
Tom cocked his head and motioned for Hattie to come closer. She stepped forward, shaking every step of the way. Tom placed a hand on her waist once more and took in everything in her expression.
She wasn't lying and he knew it. Tom smirked down at her and ran a hand through the pieces of hair tumbling out of her braid.
"Alright," Tom rubbed Hattie's hair between his fingers. "I believe you. But if you cross me, it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you understand?"
"I understand," Hattie said with all the strength she could muster. If everything went well, he would never need to know what she was really doing to him.
As the chilly winter days dragged on, Hattie and Tom fell into a comfortable routine. They spent their time together in the library or at meals, and occasionally bicker about anything that struck them, just to keep it interesting.
Hattie stayed in the Room of Requirement late into the night working with Tom on anything he requested help with. She enjoyed it. Hattie was so consumed with the future that she rarely had time to consider the past. And looking into the history of Hogwarts was enthralling.
One bleak Saturday, Hattie worked silently in the Room of Requirement. Tom had gone to Hogsmeade with the other Slytherins in the year. Without Ada and Charlotte, Hattie had no desire to join. So she instead used her free time to catch up on school work and get a bit of peace and quiet with most of the school gone.
That night when Tom returned, he strode right into the Room of Requirement and leaned against the desk Hattie was seated in. She ignored him and he watched her until he decided he'd spent enough time being ignored.
"Hattie," Tom grabbed the quill from her hand and flicked it across the room, ink streaming down as it flew.
"I'm working," Hattie held her hand out and another quill popped into existence and she continued her essay.
Tom watched her with so much distaste, Hattie couldn't help but sneak a tiny smile. A few moments later, Tom once again tossed her quill away.
They repeated this process a few more times until Tom had had enough. He growled and grabbed her under the legs and heaved her up into his arms bridal style.
"Tom," Hattie struggled and kicked until Tom dropped her on the couch. She bounced up and down on the cushions from the fall. Her heart raced from the sudden movement and close contact. "What is wrong with you?"
Tom sat down beside her and ripped a tiny box from his cloak. He held it out to her and Hattie was stunned into complete silence.
He'd gotten her a gift.
The shock on her face made Tom smirk like there was a joke she was missing. A petty and arrogant sector of her mind wondered how Tom could afford to get her anything at all. To her knowledge, orphans didn't have money.
"Is it cursed?" Hattie said. Tom shook his head.
"Is it going to hurt me?" Again, a head shake.
Hattie rolled her eyes and ripped the cover off, discarding it on the floor beside them. A gold instrument lay on a rumpled satin cushion. A light ticking filled the air when Hattie opened the box and she pulled out a miniature golden watch.
"It's charmed to heat up ten minutes before prefect duties," Tom said, admiring his handiwork. "I've noticed you enjoy making me wait for you before we begin rounds and I figured I would make this easier on you since you seem to struggle with telling time."
Hattie snatched it out of his hand and shoved it in her cloak pocket, muting the ticking.
"Thank you, Tom," Hattie smiled like an innocent child on Christmas morning, a plan already brewing in her mind. She wasn't going to take that one lying down, but she gave him a toothy grin and ran a hand through his hair.
Tom suddenly frowned, disconcerted by her immediate acceptable of his gift.
"What are you planning," Tom said quickly, grabbing Hattie's hand and pulling it out of his hair. He yearned to get in her head but stayed true to their agreement he wouldn't try. He settled on searching every bit of movement in her face to figure it out. He couldn't glean anything from her expression. But he knew this wasn't the end of it.
"I have no idea what you mean," Hattie twisted her wrist to break free from Riddle's grasp and collected her things. She leisurely cleaned her space and hummed as she went. "I'll carry your gift with me everywhere."
Hattie walked out of the Room of Requirement with Riddle looking after her like he'd never seen her before.