Hellooooo! First of all a huge, enormous, gargantuan apology for taking so long to update. I knew I wouldn't be able to update weekly anymore but I had no idea this chapter would take me two and a half, ahhh. Also good news is that this hellish quarter is almost over and that means great things for updates (: This chapter is longgg and it has Christmas so hopefully that makes up for how long and patiently you have waited. As always:
ENJOY!
December 24th, 1942
The grandfather clock that sat in the corner of the Ravenclaw tower was twin to the ones in the dormitories, standing tall and made of the same carefully carved wood but instead of having one face it had three, each facing away from each other as if to watch over the common room. One face was for the time, a standard clock that pointed forward. The second was on the movement of the moon, tracking its phases and location. The third was that of the stars and was far too complicated for anyone to have figured out, though may had tried before. Its delicate silver hands spun and swirled around as if trying to keep up with all the heavens at once, which didn't seems so impossible of an idea. Though is hardly made a noise except for on the hour, Merissa swore that the clock was screeching its tiny ticks at her, reminding her of all the time that was passing, and that despite this time nothing had been accomplished.
Her eyes flickered to the star face of the clock, trailing the frantic hands before forcing them back down to the book she held in hand. It was the third time she was reading it and she found it just a bland as the first, so it was taking nearly all her effort to make herself rake over the words. There had to be something. . .
But even Merissa's pressed faith was beginning to crumble. No matter how many times she cracked open the now worn binding of the book it offered her no secrets that she found any use to. It was better, at the very least, than the bland books she had found here at Hogwarts, though she had read them thrice through as well as knew she had to make due with what the library provided. Salazar Slytherin seemed to be the least common founder to write about, or at least the least popular to who ever ordered the books, which was not too incredibly surprising given his abandonment of the school. There was only a handful of books on the wizard and all of them were sprawled out across the floor in front of the couch that Merissa was occupying.
"This is pointless," Merissa sighed, throwing the book down onto the soft rug covering the floor and putting her legs up on the sky colored couch. She rested her head on it as she massaged her eyelids, burning from overuse, "We've gone through it three times each, there's nothing useful in this. It's just all wild speculation."
"Well," Abraxas said, looking up from his place on the rug where he had his own orderly stack of books, "That at least means he probably didn't find anything useful either."
She frowned. Riddle was impulsive, but even in his chaos there was always order. Everything he did, even the insane things (in fact more so the insane things) had a carefully thought out purpose. The only person who seemed to be able to rob him of his own obsessive meticulousness was Merissa and she was fairly certain she had not been there when he picked up this book
"I just don't buy that he would get a book without seeing something first," she countered, "The author seems less than credible if I'm being generous. And you said he hardly had any money of his own."
"I didn't tell you that to spread it around, Mer," he scolded, frowning, but she rolled her eyes and gestured dramatically around the room.
"Yes, all the people who can hear me," she yawned.
The common room was completely empty as she was the only one in her entire house who had stayed. The pair were spending as much time as they could here, without arousing Riddle's suspicions of course. It would have been quite useful, having the place to themselves, if they had managed to find anything useful.
But no revelations had come to them. It was just the pair and silence accompanied only by the sound of pages rustling and the constant ticking of the towering three-faced clock.
"I'm bored, and we haven't learned anything doing this," she whined, leaning her head on his shoulder and peering at the book he was reading, "I'd say we should take advantage of this empty room but. . ." she smirked at him sidelong.
Sighing, he shrugged her off, looking pointedly at the text. Merissa never seemed to tire of teasing him, ever since they were children. Although she was witty enough to keep it mildly entertaining he found it more as an inevitability. It was as reliable as the ticking of the clock.
"If you wanted that kind of a vacation, you should have gone with Alphard," he drawled, "You could be cozying it up in the Alps eating chocolates off of each others -" but she interrupted him with a loud gasp, nearly falling off the couch in excitement.
"Ergh," he groaned, looking at her like she had turned into a flobberworm as she steadied herself on his shoulder, "That was a joke, I definitely don't want to think about that."
As if the idea of her and Alphard didn't nauseate him enough.
"No," she snapped impatiently, jabbing a finger at the book he had open, "It says there that Salazar was a Parselmouth."
"Yes," he agreed face still pinched in disgust, "Everyone knows that."
Salazar Slytherin, after all, was the most famous Parselmouth Ireland had ever produced - possibly the most famous ever. It was the reason for the snake emblem sewn onto their robes, their scarves, their banners.
"Maybe all Slytherin's did, but I didn't," she insisted, "I can't believe I never thought. . ."
She jumped up and started to run her hands through her hair. Her feet began pulling her in paces across the room and back, though her mind was unaware.
"I don't get it," Abraxas admitted, watching her from his place on the floor, "Why does that matter?"
"Well Riddle is descended from him you know!" she said, stopping mid-pace to look at him with wide eyes. Certainly, she thought, he would see where she was going with this. The possibility sat like a burning taste of firewhiskey on her tongue. Could a half blood ever fulfill the role? Though he was certainly powerful enough in most respects she couldn't deny that a part of her underestimated him because of it. There were certain prejudices she couldn't quite leave behind as much as she would like to. Because it was true, she realized the only thing that was holding her from certainty was Riddle's blood status, though she knew it was foolish. Being a halfblood wouldn't stop him from killing her if he wanted to, it wouldn't stop him from much else . . .
"Yes, he's very proud of his ancestry," Abraxas agreed, still oblivious to the conclusion forming in her mind, "Reminds us frequently."
"Well don't you see!" she exclaimed. He continued to stare at her blankly, "Its a rare gift, it's passed down genetically you see. So Slytherin could count on no one having the gift until someone from his line came here. And if he needed to keep something - say a chamber - safe from anyone else his heir he would need a special brand of magic to protect it. A lock only a descendant would have the key to."
Comprehension dawned upon his face and just as quickly it was extinguished by disbelief. Annoyance sparked in Merissa's mind as she saw him mentally rejecting her theory. How often am I wrong she countered mentally, but kept her comment to herself. There was no reason to be arrogant, even if she was correct.
"You can't possibly think that he . . ." Abraxas shook his head, "No way, Mer."
"Why not?" she demanded, "He is the heir right? And he kind of hisses at me sometimes now that I think about it. . ." she pulled at her hair, musing over this.
"No," Abraxas argued, "He never speaks to us in it. I'm sure if he had a talent like that he would show it off to us."
"Why give away a talent like that? If he even knows its special," she argued, "There's plenty we take for granted being raised in magical households and he's arrogant enough not to research things he thinks he understands. You need to stay up tonight and see if he speaks it while he's asleep, I know that's supposed to be common."
He pinched the bridge on his nose between his thumb and index finger, "How do you know that?"
"My mother," (she said the word pointedly allowing her usual venom to soak into it) "Speaks more languages than most people have heard of," she continued, waving a hand carelessly, "Hosting international galas and what not. She'd kill for someone fluent in Parseltongue, its nearly a dead language. But that's not what we're talking about."
She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly and he rubbed his face and groaned. She held back a smirk as even if he wouldn't admit it yet, she knew she had already won.
"Please Ab?" she begged for good measure, poking her lip out juvenilely at him.
"Fine," he agreed wearily, "Fine, but after nothing happens, you drop this okay? This isn't a real lead."
She grinned, refusing to allow his pessimism to influence her mood. This was the first break in weeks and even if Abraxas couldn't see it yet she at least could be comforted by the fact that she knew she was right.
"I'd like to see you try to crush on him after hearing him all hissy and ew," she laughed, plopping back down onto the couch and ignoring his exasperated expression, "I wonder what kind of sounds he makes when he - you know," she winked at him.
"You're disgusting," he told her factually, unfolding his long limbs as he stood an began to stretch them back out, "I can't believe I used to kiss that foul mouth."
She stuck her tongue at him as he began stacking up the books on the table. She kept their collection hidden between her mattress and box spring as a precaution. It made for uncomfortable sleeping but the peace of mind was well worth it. When Abraxas was done she levitated them carefully, making them shoot up the staircase, a soft thump signifying they had made it into her dormitory.
Merissa smirked. She was getting rather good at this.
Abraxas refused to be impressed, "Extraordinary" he sighed when she looked at him expectantly, "If you could hold a wand steady you might actually be threatening."
She tossed her hair over her shoulder loftily, "I'm terrifying," she assured him.
He still looked far from convinced but let the subject drop, "I need to get back before anyone misses me," he said, "I'll be back tomorrow, same time."
"Tomorrow is Christmas," she pouted.
Though she kept her tone light she was a bit apprehensive about spending the holiday alone. While her usual family gatherings could hardly be called intimate and despite being happy to escape the usual parade of parties she was dragged along to there was a deeper unspoken concern of such a change. She found herself clinging to what little remained of the life she was so familiar with, even if she had despised it. Better the devil you know than the one you don't.
"Fine," Abraxas conceded for the second time today. There just wasn't any use arguing with her, "I'll come in the morning, before anyone wakes up. We can open our presents together."
She beamed. Now that there was no pressure for them to be together, she found she enjoyed Abraxas' company more than anyone else's, save maybe Susan when she wasn't being a dolt.
"I will look forward to it," she called, curling back into the couch, sure to take advantage of all the space she had as she watched him go, the door turning back into a solid wall once he had gone. Closing her eyes, she pulled a pillow over her chest, realizing how drowsy she was almost at once. It had been a rather long day, and the sun was only now slipping behind the hills beyond the Black Lake, painting the world behind her eyelids a golden color. She slipped slowly into a between state of consciousness, for once not plagued with troubling dreams. She stayed like this for a while - she couldn't be sure how long - when she became aware of the sound of footsteps.
This of course instantly had her upright as she was the only Ravenclaw here and Abraxas had already left for the day. Blinking her eyes wildly to focus them she jumped to her feet, sending the pillow she had been holding flying out onto the floor between herself and the figure. Even in the dim light he was unmistakable.
"What in the name of Merlin's week old trousers are you doing here, Riddle," she demanded, all the softness of sleep pushed from her mind at once.
He sauntered closer, not taken aback by her waking and leaned nonchalantly against an armchair, looking around with mild interest all the while. She guessed he probably had never been in another common room, as he didn't associate with anyone outside Slytherin, but his nonchalance infuriated her. As if he had nothing to be afraid of, or perhaps more exactly, as if she was nothing to be afraid of.
"Mmm," he hummed in approval, gesturing to the main alcove that had several plush chairs and a reading lap huddled around a wall of books, "That's nice."
She glared at him, standing up straighter and jutting her chin out. It bothered her how even as he carelessly leaned onto the back of one of the armchairs he appeared to tower over her. Abraxas, while certainly physically taller did not dwarf her in the way Riddle's presence did. The enigmatic air that surrounded him was almost palpable.
She had no idea how she had overlooked it before.
And yet, she found herself scanning him over again because certainly she had never seen him without his robes on. He was wearing a rather plain white button up and very muggle looking slacks. He probably hadn't done it purposefully, but she was thrown off by how normal he looked for the second time this week, not that it stopped her from glaring at him as if it had been a purposeful attack.
He seemed amused by the way she was gripping her wand, arms crossed tightly around her thin jumper. Merissa was almost certain a strand of her hair was on the wrong side as it tickled her jaw but she refused to lower her wand to fix it. It would be a rather anticlimactic reasons for dying after everything.
"I think you've been spending too much time with Black. That insult was all to reminstence of his vulgar mouth," he smirked at her.
She felt no need to play along with his banter while they were so painfully isolated so she looked at him with as much disdain as she could muster, trying to imagine he was a solicitor trying to sell her broom catalogues at her door, "What are you doing here?"
His smirk dropped at her tone, evidently realizing she was not going to be much fun to toy with today, "What a coincidence, that's why I'm here. To ask you the same thing."
Merissa was still shaken by how quickly he dropped the charming, light voice that he used around nearly everyone to this darker, deeper version. It was as if he spilt, one half the polite boy she had written off years ago as no one interesting enough to know and the other half this dark dangerous animal which she didn't know the first thing about. It was unsettling how quickly he could switch between the two. He was practiced, skilled.
"I live here," she mocked unwilling to let the uncomfortable feeling take hold of her like it was threatening to, but he didn't seem bothered by her comment.
"I don't mean in this tower," he clarified with an air of patience which she knew was faux, "I mean why are you in this castle? I heard of all the invitations you got, and just to spend the holidays alone? Someone might think something was wrong."
He finished slowly as if allowing the implication of the words to settle into the air. She stared at him, unblinking. He wouldn't catch her flinching, she swore it to herself.
"As much as I appreciate your concern with my social life, I am tired, and do not have time for this Riddle," she snapped, hoping it would end their conversation and escape back to her room.
She hadn't moved an inch however before he raised his wand level with her heart, "Don't make me ask again," his voice was barely above a whisper, but it stopped her dead in her tracks.
Perhaps half a flinch wouldn't be so horrible.
"I thought it would show you," she admitted, "That I wasn't about to be intimidated by you."
Also, I think you're sneaking around in an ancient chamber left by your ancestor she added mentally.
"But here we are," he said, face calm, but eyes ablaze, "You being intimidated by me."
"I am not," she said firmly, surprised by how true it was.
"How foolish of you."
She gave him a very forced smile before moving forward, hoping to corral him out of her common room, "I think you should go now, Riddle."
It wasn't entirely unexpected when he didn't move an inch, but she was still rather disappointed. This apparently wouldn't be a brief encounter.
"Well Riddle disagrees," he smiled, sitting down in on of the chairs he liked, propping his head against his fist, the other waving invitingly to the one across from him, "Please sit."
She didn't move a muscle, arms still crossed. His face contorted in rage, "It was not a request Thorpe!" he snarled.
She looked at him levely, making no move to sit down.
"Imperio," he growled.
She found her muscles dragging her unwilling mind into the seat he had indicated. She stared at him, her eyes burning indignantly, not able to react in any other way. He looked pleased, "That's better."
She gasped as he lifted his wand, her muscles groaning in pain from her resistance. His spell was clearly meant to hold her into her seat but she found she could flex her hand, pleased when she was able to move it and elated when she was able to start burning the soft fabric of the chair she was forced into with it. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt fibers yet seemed too nervous of her ability to prevent her from doing it more. He lowered his wand and the effects of the unforgivable ceased. She smiled coolly, releasing the arm of the chair and folding her hands in her lap.
"Was that necessary," she asked, still inexplicably calm.
He seemed bothered by this, narrowing his eyes at her, "Yes. I am Tom Riddle and you do what I say."
"I don't," she argued lightly, jestering to the burnt imprint of her hand on the arm of the chair, "Isn't that why we keep having a go at each other?"
His eyes were slits now as he considered her, "Yes," he finally allowed, "And I truly despise you, Thorpe."
"The feeling is mutual. Though, I think that if you're having to risk Azkaban using unforgivables to get me to do these things, you're a little desperate."
"Coming from the little girl who has tavern brawls with her boyfriend and is estranged from her best friend because of infidelity with a blood traitor?" he snapped back, though his wand hand had twitched as if it would have liked to shove her up against the wall by her neck when she had called him desperate.
"I find it fascinating that you claim I'm nothing, but then have to continuously belittle me to yourself when you're around me," she tested, standing up again as his spells no longer held anything over her, "It's almost as if you are worried you might be frightened of me if you didn't take such precautions."
"Are you willing to bet on that Thorpe?" he challenged, also rising now, "Legilimens."
She didn't have time to block him with magic, but she managed to throw her current thoughts into the depths of her subconscious, thinking wildly of the only thing she knew would make him unwilling to spend more time in her mind; kissing Alphard.
He came out of her mind quickly, looking every bit disgusted as she had hoped and breathing heavily at the effort attacking her had caused. She was by far the most difficult person he had tried this on.
"No matter," he seethed, "That'll break poor Malfoy's heart though."
Her mind prickled uncomfortably having just relieved the moment she had been shoving away so frequently, but this was certainly not the time to consider it. She thought about anything but Malfoy as she lied recklessly, "He's known for years. He's just bothered that we aren't being sneaky anymore."
She really prayed he wasn't attempting to penetrate her mind again as he held her eyes for a moment longer than he usually did. If he had, he found nothing at the very least.
"I will catch you off guard, and all this struggling will be all for none when I do," he threatened, sweeping away, "Last chance to come clean, Thorpe."
"I look forward to that," she called after him, "When you find out I've been minding my own business and all of this was for none."
He turned, looking like a feral animal, black eyes flaming, "I may not know what you are trying to do, but you can bet that I know you are doing everything except that."
He left, just as quickly as he had came and she found herself staring at the hole in the wall which he had disappeared through minutes after it had sealed and returned to appear as a solid wall. It took several more for her to realize why she was still staring. She could have sworn she saw him shaking slightly as he left, a sign of weakness she had never observed before. They had hardly dueled, but her mere ability to resist him seemed to infuriate him beyond all bounds. It had taken a lot out of her too admittedly. His magic was unlike anything she had ever experienced. He was not merely talented, he was also powerful, wielding magic in a incredibly unique way. She couldn't deny his talent anymore, based upon bloodstatus or anything else for that matter. He was better than any pureblood she had ever met and perhaps she might have also admitted of anyone she had ever met if her pride would have allowed it. This in mind, she decided she would just sleep on a chair, casting wards incase he tried to come back. He would not expect her to be so daring after today, and perhaps that would be a blessing in disguise. She curled up and fell into blissfully still slumber, despite her worries.
December 25th, 1942
Merissa was aware of gentle rustling as she awoke. At first she dismissed it as Susan turning in her sleep, but as it grew louder she recognized that it was the arm of a chair putting a crook in her back and with that realization came rushing back the awareness of where she was an why. She bounded up, brandishing her wand at the shadowy figure, making it yell out in fear. She recognized the voice immediately even from such a short cry, however she kept the delicate stick of wood steady at its chest as her eyes adjusted, just to be sure.
She lowered her wand when she was sure the light shock of hair was not an illusion - it was just Abraxas. He was mostly obscured by a large armful of presents which was the source of the rustling but his eyes stared widely at her from over the heap.
"Merlin Meri," he complained, "Didn't you ask me to come?"
"Y-yes," she managed to say, stowing away her wand and making to help him with the pile, setting them down on a table, "I just had a visit from your debussy last night, so I am still on edge."
"Riddle was here?" he asked at once, and even in the dim light she recognized his cheeks darkened slightly as he blushed, realizing the conclusion he had drawn so quickly from her words, "That's what you get for just having a riddle as a password here," he told her, grasping for recovery.
She let it slide, his embarrassment twisting her stomach unpleasantly. As much as she would have enjoyed gentle teasing on the subject she couldn't get past the sick feeling in her guts every time she remembered that he held Riddle in such regards.
He began straightening the pile as she stood watching, heart still beating fast from her rude awakening and now also from her discomfort.
"How did you get past my wards?" she asked, suddenly frowning.
"It was very unpleasant," he began testily (which was somewhat relieving for her as they seemed to fit back into their normal pattern which avoided the subject of Tom Riddle), "To be smashed against the wall upon my entrance and have to unstick myself, only to be tripped and held upside down while I freed myself. Luckily I am quite familiar undoing your magical booby traps at this point. I had to every morning I'd come to wake you up that week in Venice, remember? You were upset with me for not letting you go on the muggle gondolas."
She grinned at the memory, plopping back onto the chair she had slept in, "I do. I'm also not sorry for that, those little boats were so charming."
"Uh huh," he agreed, not at all surprised she had dodged any apology, "But I also got here very early. It's not even four yet."
Merissa raised her eyebrows at him as she lit a nearby lamp. It was clear that it was early from the dim grey light, still she had assumed by his presence it must have been at least five, as Abraxas valued what little sleep he could manage to fit in with studying, quidditch and social events. With the addition of snooping around with her lately, rest was a coveted commodity.
"I didn't sleep actually," he told her, "I stayed up until three, cursing you if I'm honest. It was so like you to have a plan that involved me staying up all night for nothing. But it wasn't for nothing, you were right," he breathed the last line, making her sit down, fascinated, "I stayed up, and eventually he started hissing."
She leaned back in her, smiling up at the high ceiling painted like the heavens as if thanking a higher power, "That bastard can really do it."
"Yes," he agreed, "But there's nothing we can do about with that at the moment so. . ." he tossed her a present from his pile, "This is for you, "from me". My mother has been uncharacteristically coy whenever I ask about it so I'm assuming it rather awful."
She fiddled with the box, frowning at its beautiful wrappings suspiciously. She had a fair idea what might be inside and she thought Abraxas probably did too, but she understood his unwillingness to finalize it. Given the current circumstances, this small box was hardly welcome. And given even the most basic understanding of Lillian Malfoy, one knew that it would be exceptionally conspicuous.
"How much of your mother's shopping have you taken credit for over the years?" she diverted.
"Plenty," he shrugged. She bit her lip, looking back down at the package, "Open it," he snapped, starting to unwrap a large gift that turned out to be a shiny, new broom, to neither of their surprise.
She obeyed, slashing the corners of the thick paper open with flicks of her fingers as she went. Abraxas knew exactly why she enjoyed it so, as exactly three years ago he had watched her try this on a present when spending Christmas with both of their families. Though Mrs. Malfoy had clapped her hands together in delite at her talent, Gregor Thorpe had looked upon his daughter with fury. The Malfoy's had hardly left their foye before her father had taken her by the arm and dragged her upstairs to his study. Merisa had spent the rest of the holiday giving half hearted excuses to everyone why she could not visit while her ever-faithful house elf dabbed salve on her bruises. It was no secret that to Gregor Thorpe, image was everything, and it was hardly surprising given his highly visible position in the ministry. Having a magical freak for a daughter was hardly part of his plan, and Merissa couldn't entirely blame him, even if she should.
"He's looking out for me as well, Abraxas," she had argued with him on their return journey to Hogwarts that vacation, "If anyone in the press got hold of it they would have a field day. He's protecting me as much as himself."
Merissa, for reasons Abraxas couldn't fathom, did have a soft spot for her father. But he could understand why she took the freedoms now to play with her magic. It was no wonder Hogwarts had always felt more like home to her.
Abraxas's attention was pulled back by a short gasp from Merissa as she finally opened the small box in her palm. What was truly remarkable to both of them was how brightly the stone shone even with the sun still hidden behind the mountains.
"It is rather lovely," she admitted, pulling it from its nestled bed of satin, "Even if its entirely inappropriate. I'm sure your father insisted on a ring."
"Having a betrothment isn't official enough for him, I have to physically mark you as my territory" he sighed, leaning over to look at it too, "Apparently it was time you had one, even if you can't wear it on your hand for the time being. I wouldn't be offended if you chucked it though, given the circumstances."
"No, I'll wear it," she insisted putting it on her index finger where is obscured the bottom half of her finger easily it sheer size. She was grateful he hasn't put on a show about it and was easily convinced to do the same, "It'll be like a friendship ring!"
"That's a gaudy friendship ring," he told her, moving back into his seat to start on the next package. Merissa pulled her knees up onto the chair and spun the ring around her finger. All of it could have been much worse and she was grateful that if she had to marry anyone that it was at least someone she did love, even if her feelings towards Abraxas had been more familial than wanting-to-start-a-family. And she couldn't claim she had felt such stirrings for anyone, at least not that she recognized.
"Alphard!" Abraxas cried disdainfully.
Merissa's eyes flew up quicker than she knew they could, "Excuse me?" she demanded. There was no way her face was that readable.
But Abraxas wasn't looking at her at all, yet alone deeply enough to have extracted her inner musings. He was gaping down at a box which he had just opened, filled the the brim with something black and incredibly familiar in its irregular round shapes.
He sent me coal," Abraxas muttered, picking up a piece of the charred contents in utter disbelief, "Actual, physical coal."
Merissa burst out laughing, earning her a sour look from Abraxas, the chunk still held gingerly between his fingers. He tossed it lightly at her and she caught it easily, taking it in her own fingers to examine it.
"I wonder if it's from Switzerland," she smirked, tossing it into the smoldering fireplace. She couldn't deny how pleasant it was to have someone who could make her laugh from countries away.
"I wonder if you got any," Abraxas challenged, making her smug smile fade away, "Summon them from your room, I want to see."
"Accio presents," she called, though she had to admit she was a bit apprehensive as the pile whizzed down to her. Surely, Alphard wasn't that angry at her, was he? She scanned them hoping to find a label from him quickly, but instead discovering she had a present that was not her own.
"Oh whoops I didn't specify which presents . . . sorry," she squinted at the foreign name scribble hastily on the brown paper package, "Myrtle Warren, whoever you are."
"Nobody then if neither you nor I have heard of her," Abraxas laughed, tossing the package away, "Let's see. . . oh here we go," he fished a thick envelope out of her newly formed pile and placed it in her expectantly outstretched hands.
"That's not coal," she said weakly, half wishing it was.
The letter was heavy in her hands, easily ten pages long. Alphard's tidy scrawl was unmistakable and even if it hadn't been the Black family crest imprinted on the wax seal would have been enough to give the sender away. There was something slightly disturbing about the coat of arms on a letter from him - he was never so formal, especially not with her.
She could just imagine what he would have to say her to as he spent his vacation alone with plenty of time to ruminate on what happened after the ball. Even more clear was the three page addition he would have made as well if he knew she was spending her's curled up with Malfoy.
"Later," Abraxas insisted, clearly disappointed, "Just be grateful it isn't a howler."
She nodded, putting the letter down carefully as if she was worried it would explode despite its innocent appearance. Trying to push wild speculation about what horror that heavy parchment could hold from her mind, she moved on to some standard gifts from her parents. She had received a lot more than usual this year, probably because Abraxas had been lying about her dealings this year. Besides the expected extravagance from her parents, she had gotten a lovely new quill from Abby along with a planner that yelled when an assignment was upcoming from James (which she knew he had bought tongue in cheek) and single sock from Susan. She sighed down at the sock, before tossing it near Myrtle's package with a huff. Mary hadn't even bothered to send a note which made Merissa passionately regret spending hours pouring over which broach the girl would prefer.
"Christmas isn't as fun when everyone is mad at you," she sighed, picking up a gift from his pile and ripping into it with another practiced twitch of her wrist.
"Stop being so tragic," Abraxas chided, "Those are really nice," he nudged a pair of riding boots she had gotten from her parents.
"Those mean we are being dragged to Barcelona again this summer to that polo club they're so fond of," she said pointedly, wrinkling her nose as if she could already smell the concentrated sweat of the stallions.
"You poor thing," he snorted, "We'll invite Alphard, as I am absolutely positive he will have forgiven you by New Years, and we'll cover for each other."
"Do you want this?" she asked quickly changing the subject, "It's from your barmy aunt," she showed him the small leather bound book in her hand and he groaned.
If Merissa was the shame of her family then Auriga Malfoy was the shame of his. Seemingly concrete proof that the Malfoy and Black lines should never mix, Auriga had married into the family and promptly went mad. Every holiday she sent out a single leather bound journal to everyone in the family insisting that they fill it with their dreams so that when she saw them she could interpret them. Everyone learned rather quickly not to do this however, because her predictions were as outlandish as she was. Merissa would humor her occasionally and her choice prediction for her future seemed to be bloody deaths, which amused her as much as it exasperated Abraxas.
"No, please take it," he said, forcefully pushing it back into her hands, "I know you use them for class. I'll get another for Easter, I'm sure."
"I haven't had to buy a notebook in years though," she said brightly, tossing it into her pile of opened presents.
"How fortunate, surely such lavish purchases would cripple the Thorpe estate," he drawled as she tore zealously into another package.
She grinned down, partially because she was pleased at how cleanly she had cut the wrappings and a larger part due to the ridiculous nature of his comment. She was fairly sure she could have purchased a small island every day of the year for the rest of her life and still not see the back wall of the Thorpe vault at Gringotts. Though they lived far from frugally the men in her family had the reputation of dragons - lording over their mountains of gold.
"Nonetheless, they're handy little things," she countereted, finding in pleasant surprise the gift was a box of chocolate frogs from Thomas.
The chocolate being the pleasant part. She still couldn't muster any feelings but complete indifference to her co-prefect.
"You wouldn't be so fond of them if they were a reminder that you were related to a crazy woman," he muttered, watching as she bit into one of the frogs, "What's his deal anyways?," he gestured to the box, "Does he fancy you?"
Merissa shrugged, "I really don't know. I didn't get him a gift though, so hopefully he'll get the message."
"Free chocolate is horrible, you really are going to put your foot down I'm sure," he teased, earning a chocolate frog in the face. He caught it easily with his seeker reflexes and took a bite, "Horrible," he nodded.
"Does it taste like charity?" she asked, "It should."
"Only the cheapest," he agreed, finishing the sweet off with another bite. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach, undoubtedly thinking of the extravagant feast being prepared below them. He had never gone a day in his life without three lavish houself prepared meals so she guessed his sleepless - and more importantly foodless- night had taken a toll he was completely foreign to.
"I should go," he sighed, "They'll be waking up soon."
Yeah, Merissa thought, hardly hiding a grin, And you're hungry.
But even she couldn't deny the constant nature of time. The sun was starting to crest the ridge over the lake, making the snow on the windowsill glisten and bringing color to the previously gray room. Another day was breaking despite anyone's efforts to spend all day cocooned in their chambers. The dawn took no holidays.
"You should get back to the snake pit," she agreed. She saw him inspecting her face carefully. His searching looks were all too familiar these days so she joked, "Take your presents with you, or I'll steal them."
"Like you would know what do with a nimbus," he laughed, deciding she was fine, "See you around, Mer. Happy Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Ab," she waved as she cracked the binding of a book on advanced potion making Joseph had gotten her, probably in hopes it would stump her. It did not.
/_\
Returning Myrtle Warren's gift proved to be no easy task, so much so that Merissa had begun to question if she simply was not the sort of person who was meant to do nice things. Why else was the universe making it so difficult for her to give someone a bloody package? It was not that Myrtle did not accept the package, but Merissa was having great difficulty finding anyone who had even heard of the girl to tell her which house to look in.
"Sorry," shrugged a sixth year Hufflepuff boy, after she had nearly tackled him trying to get him to pause in the hall long enough to listen to her question, "Never heard of her. Aren't you Merissa Thorpe though?"
"No," she snapped forcefully, annoyed by his lack of knowledge, through a small part of her reminded her that she also had no idea who she was.
The boy didn't seem bothered, simply shrugging again, "My mistake then, some creepy Slytherin was asking me if I'd seen her earlier. She looks a lot like you."
He peered at her again inquisitively, most likely finding her likeness to be uncanny.
"I've heard," she snapped, not bothering to wonder what Lestrange was asking around about her for. She was sure she'd find out soon enough. The boy left after one last look over his shoulder, but she spotted a gangly Gryffindor down the hall.
"Hey. Hey!" she called, starting after him, when he did not stop, "Potter, right?"
The Gryffindor seeker turned, looking bemused as she jogged to him, "Aren't you Merissa Thorpe?" he asked when she reached him.
"Yes," she huffed, exasperated, "Who's looking for me now?"
"No one that I know of," he said, a grin to break across his face at her tone, "I just play against Malfoy. That was brilliant what you did to him in the three broomsticks, by the way. I'm a huge fan."
It didn't surprise her in the slightest that everyone seemed to still be talking about her constructed argument with Abraxas, as it had happened so recently, though that didn't stop her from finding it rather exhausting. Far worse arguments happened behind closed doors even within Hogwarts but no one raised any eyebrows to the bruises the meek girls did their best to cover afterwards. It was only the real spectacles that anyone cared about, what happened in private was left alone, even when it really shouldn't be.
"No press is bad press," she said grumpily. He was far too cheerful for her taste, though she allowed she was probably acting a bit like a Scrooge, "I am looking for a Myrtle Warren, have you heard of her?"
"Sure, I know her," he nodded and she let out a sigh or relief. Who knew the jockish Charlus Potter would a useful source for information.
"She's in your house though," he gave her a strange look, "Third year."
"No one else in my house stayed," she argued, "And also, how do you know her then?"
"Er -," he ruffled his hair looking uncomfortable, "I find her on patrols a lot. I guess people aren't the nicest to her," his eyes suddenly narrowed, eyeing her suspiciously, "Why are you looking for her?"
Unbelievable. He thought she was trying to stalk out a victim on Christmas. And what exactly had she ever done to possess such a reputation? It was true that Olive Hornby was on the receiving end of plenty of hexes originating from her wand, but that was because Olive Hornby was a prepatator of such crimes, not Merissa herself. That didn't make her guilty at all, in fact in absolved her of her sins she thought. Hexing Hornby was really a public service.
Merissa raised her hands defensively, "I was just summoning my gifts and accidently got one of hers," she held out the present as proof
"Okay," Charlus squinted at her, clearly still unsure.
"Got to go," she muttered, "Santa duties."
He finally smiled, deciding her intentions were pure, waving slightly as she went.
She didn't think much as she made the voyage back to the Ravenclaw tower, mostly relieved to soon be rid of the package that had plagued her morning. When she finally came to the third year girls dormitory door, she hesitated before deciding to knock.
Her ear pressed against the door, hardly believing anyone else could have been in the tower without her noticing, she was surprised to hear a squeak and some shuffling. Perhaps she wasn't as observant as she had always assumed. She waited patiently, and when the door finally opened, she was met by a short girl with thick spectacles gazing at her with slight horror.
"Hello, I'm Merissa Thorpe" she said smiling kindly as she saw how terrified this girl clearly was, "I apologize, I was under the impression I was the only Ravenclaw who stayed, I would have introduced myself sooner."
The girl stared at her with rather plain brown eyes for about a minute longer than Merissa was comfortable with before saying very quietly, "I'm Myrtle."
The girl's voice cracked as if she had not used it in months, which given her reclusive behavior didn't seem completely out of the question.
"Nice to meet you," Merissa continued trying to ignore the way plump girl was gazing at her, "I think I have something of yours," she offered her the package, "I accidentally summoned it earlier today and have been looking for you since."
"That was very kind of you," she said, voice quivering as she took her present.
"You're welcome," Merissa said, smiling encouragingly. The girl just continued to look at her with wide unblinking eyes. Merissa cleared her throat before continuing, "So, you must be getting so much done up here. I haven't seen you at meals or anything."
"The house elves have been bringing me food," she whispered, not looking at the older girl as she spoke, the only time Merissa thought she should have made eye contact, "I've hardly left my room."
"Right," Merissa nodded slowly, trying very hard not to let judgment seep into her voice. People like Myrtle were exactly why most assumed Ravenclaw's were silent and painfully shy. She had never done anything to this girl and yet she seemed incapable of carrying on a proper greeting. Merissa coughed when the girl was silent again before concluding, "Well I'll see you around Myrtle."
The girl just continued to gape mutely as she closed the door. Merissa shook her head before heading to her room, where she intended to sulk about being alone at Christmas for the rest of the day. But she was suddenly struck with a thought that froze her in place, her hand inched from the third year's door.
Myrtle said she had been in her room all break. All break Merissa had been carelessly talking with Abraxas just below her. And the way she had stared. . .
She knew everything, Merissa realized.
Well I guess the only solution is to kill Myrtle now. Haha I'm joking (or am I?). You'll just have to read and see. Now hopefully the somewhat confusing title of this chapter also makes sense, because Myrtle is a pragmatist and her presenT and her presenCE are central to this chapter. I'm too acutely aware that I'm explaining my own joke now but oh well. I don't to promise an update date exactly because if I don't make it I will beat myself up over it BUT I will say that the next chapter is already in the works and I think (and hope) you will all enjoy it as well.
Reviews will be addressed in the next update so if you want to leave one you will hear back shortly ;)