March 3rd, 1943
He really despised the Greek alphabet.
When he had first decided upon the endeavor of schooling himself in the language, it had been an offhand idea, perhaps somewhat fueled by jealousy, but valid nonetheless. When he imagined leaving the words of Salazar Slytherin himself up to the interpretation to a witch, one out of his house no less, he wondered if his ancestor would have been rather offended at the thought. In fact, he was quite convinced the founder would have been, though he also supposed there was no way that Slytherin could have foreseen that his own family would squander all of the gold within a few meager generations and his heir would have no access to such an education that would allow him to read it himself. They had hardly had instruction on dead language available at Wool's orphanage, unless one considered rather archaic profanities when the materon was drunk.
Perchance better for it too, because Tom hardly had the patience for the letters as it was. There very purpose seemed to be to mock him. The characters where nearly the same in some cases, familiar shapes with the smallest of embellishments popping out from the page, promising a quick comprehension. And that was exactly the problem - at first examination it seemed it should function the same, flow the same with similar sounds.
Quickly, he had realized that was not the case. Though some were familiar, others were entirely alien, and held no place in his schema. Trying to fly through at first, he found the gaps were not the type that would fill themselves in, boundless canyons in his knowledge preventing any of it from making sense.
While learning a new language had always seemed like a worldly and sophisticated thing to do, Tom had never overly considered it. After all, he counted the most important language anyone could know to be Parseltongue, and he had been fortunate enough to be born with that ability. Mastering all forms of magic was priority - the rest would come after undisputable power. Perhaps it was because it never seemed a necessity that he was having such trouble, secluding himself to his dormitory during meals, evenings, even some class hours, obsessing over his inability. There were so many more worthy things that begged his attention, and now all of them were suffering for it.
Even presently he couldn't quite explain why he felt the need to learn such a skill - now of all times.
Thorpe was quite good at translating, after all. He didn't have any doubts in her ability. She had read and copied each word onto the page that was spread across the table now. He had seen in with his very eyes, the prodigy in action. It was nothing less than enviable, the effortlessness she had read the foreign symbols with and the hours, nearing full days now, that he had dedicated to attempting the same feat were nothing short of derogatory.
But there was something so wrong about the page, when he looked at the two side by side - journal and transcription. It was the right amount of words, the same structuring and everything else made sense.
Except it didn't at all.
There was simply nothing there. He couldn't stop obsessing over it, to the point that he had checked out half the library's collection of Greek works and had been pouring over them, attempting to learn the language. Of course, it would all be much easier if he asked Thorpe herself to teach him, but avoiding her smugness was worth the considerable torture. A force beyond his understanding compelled him to translate it on his own, and since spending time in the second floor bathroom was nothing short of nauseating these days, it was well worth the distraction. Perhaps it was just in his nature to be wary of assistance.
She had seemed useful enough to seek out, however. If he hadn't been so bent on finishing the task at hand, he would have been more irritated about her avoiding him after their altercation. After all, he thought her resilient enough to handle being pushed around a bit. Enough in the past, it seemed, to go right back into antagonizing him after being on the receiving end of his curses.
Now, she chose to be fragile, and it was highly inconvenient.
The tip of his quill bent under the pressure of his hand, and he removed it, frowning at the symbol he had been trying to copy. Easily recognizable, he nearly allowed himself to be content with it. A simple flicker of his eyes comparing it to Thorpe's messier but still decidedly more practiced transcription quelled this brief pleasant feeling. Not nearly good enough, he amended, scowling now as he crumpled up the parchment. Tossing it into the waste bin, he abandoned his quill, taking a book into his lap to read it instead. The English version of the text was already lying open on his desk for comparison, along with a dictionary.
As if attempting this wasn't puinishing enough, the ballads the Greeks had thought important enough to record were not at all to his taste. Likely, this had something to do with his distinct impression they were written by Muggles, the descriptions of magic as a strange and fearsome power. He had been hopeful when a witch had been introduced in one story, seemingly spiteful to Muggles, turning them into beasts, but in the end she had grown fond of the hero as well, and Tom had to retire the book.
Just as he was beginning to settle into a properly gorey war story, his eyes jumping between the three books, the familiar creak of the dormitory door alerted him of company.
His turn of the head was slow, bored, though he didn't like being interrupted. The intruder - Malfoy as turned out - was appropriately sheepish as he moved to retrieve his Charms text off of his bed, so Tom was assured his irritation was plain on his face. Though it made little difference, he still rather enjoyed the hesitancy the blond moved in his presence. Malfoy could be counted on to remember who he was.
"My lord," he ducked his head in greeting, tucking his book into the leather bag at his side.
Tom regarded the boy. His greeting was routine enough. Malfoy always seemed eager to stoop a few inches. Perceptive too, as Tom wasn't particularly fond that the boy had always been just a inch or two taller. Standard as this was, something gave Tom pause. Though he had never paid him enough attention to say what was distinctly different, Abraxas appeared tired - thinner maybe. His eyes were certainly more averted than usual. They were usually so bashfully eager to take him in. Indeed, it was difficult to remember the last time Tom had been in his sole company over the last month, no more than could be counted on one hand, he thought.
"You've been plodding away lately, Malfoy," Tom noted, "Tell me, what keeps you so engaged?"
"There is much, my lord," Abraxas murmured, his eyes fixed on the still pool of water that was the centerpiece of the room, "Classes, quidditch, meetings. I cannot pretend to be as talented as managing it all as you."
"Such . . . flattery," Tom spoke slowly.
Abraxas still refused to meet his eyes, "My lord," he said again, and began out the door.
Before he could evade him, Tom added, rather forcefully, "I will see you tonight then, Malfoy. I look forward to what you will bring to our little gathering."
The boy finally met his smoldering stare, nodded and then left the room. There had been nothing in his expression, but not the kind of nothing that implied no knowledge, or thoughtlessness, instead the kind of nothing that was constructed, carefully built.
Turning back to his desk, Tom sighed and tutted, "Oh, Malfoy. When will you learn . . ."
Returning to his work, largely unphased, he decided to use this solitude to attempt the speaking. He scowled at the strange shapes as he tried to give them life in his mouth, his tongue unfamiliar on the strange sounds. Parseltongue had been much easier.
/_\
Merissa was beside Abraxas as soon as he was back down the stairs from his dormitory, her eyes fixed with predatory focus as she bounded from one of the high-backed chairs to meet him. She hadn't been kept waiting for long, though given his expression something important had passed in the brief minute since he had left her.
"I thought you were going to wait outside," he muttered as she came to stride with him and they exited into the dungeons together. She could tell he was put out that she hadn't listened to him, but she was far more concerned about the underlying paleness of his face. Abraxas was an awful tease with information lately, which only made her more eager to obtain it, despite his protest.
"And leave all the good snooping to you?" she asked incredulously, "Unlikely. What did you see? What is he doing in there?"
"I told you, I wasn't snooping. I forgot my book," he replied stiffly, ignoring all of her quierers.
"Even better," she insisted, her fervor only heightened, "He will sense your sincerity. Now what did you see? Something good if you're not telling me, I'm sure."
"Nothing," he snapped, "He was reading. Anyways Merissa, we need to stop staging these run ins so frequently. He's getting suspicious."
"There's nothing suspicious about getting a bloody book, Malfoy," she retorted. Abraxas didn't look convinced so she added earnestly, "If he knew, we would be dead, simple as that. So he can't know."
Abraxas sighed, but didn't argue any further as they ascended up to the Great Hall, though she wasn't hopeful enough to assume that it meant that he agreed with her. As they entered, they walked the aisle between the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. The decision of which house table to join had become more complicated of late, Merissa actually enjoying Abraxas' company for change and not Susan's. Ultimately, most days it came down to a question between whether she would rather suffer through Edward Thomas or Andrew Nott, a choice which Merissa likened to deciding whether she rather chop off her left or right foot. Thomas had become a constant fixture at Abby's side since they had began going steady, and though she was pleased to see them so happy, she could at least still snub Nott with minimal consequences. This was generally what made the determination to sit at the Slytherin table, and today the same conclusion was drawn, Merissa touching Abby's shoulder in greeting as they passed her blue clad friends.
When they reached their seats, Alphard grinned up from his breakfast. He seemed to have been waiting for them and was quick to dangle a letter from a corner pressed between his thumb and index finger in front of Merissa. It had her name on the front in loopy script and she sighed. While she hadn't thought Clarence Day would send her another collection so soon, she wasn't surprised if he was becoming desperate. She almost told Alphard to chuck it when she realized the stationary was not that of the reporters.
"For me?" she asked, holding out a hand expectantly. She was interested now.
Alphard nodded and swung the envelope like a pendulum, but did not drop it into her outstretched hand. She began to grin as well and tried to make out the sender. Shaking her head when she could not, she refocused her eyes on Alphard's smug grin.
"Who's it from then?" she asked, willing to play along for the intrigue of a mystery letter.
"Guess," he insisted.
Rolling her eyes, she took it from his hand. He made a show of preventing her at first, but a warning glare from Abraxas sobered him. Once she had the letter in her grasp and read the sender, however, her eyes widened and she was quick to rip the top open.
Dearest Miss Thorpe,
We hope this letter finds you well. We received your samples several weeks ago, but due to complications related to Muggle air raids, we have been unable to contact you until this time. Let us begin by saying how impressed we were in your creations. New inventions are in high demand in these trying times, and we were thrilled to see such young talent. We would like to offer you a full time apprenticeship this coming summer at our facilities and begin giving samples of your variation polyjuice potion for our board to try if you could send us more. This being said, we are bonded by certain business technicalities that we must discuss with you if we are to begin selling your product, as we would very much like to.
Firstly, we will require a signature from your guardians, as you are not of age. Attached is a form, which either you or your guardian can return in the earliest convenience. Secondly, we ask that you have an experienced potioneer watch over your work. As you are lucky enough to have Horace as your professor, he will be more than acceptable.
Thirdly, purely for the preservation of the Slevin reputation, we will have to ask you to use an alias as a seller on our labels. May we suggest Oliver Smith? I'm sure you understand, given the current climate why we do not wish to advertise being affiliated.
We think you will find these terms to be agreeable, so please contact us as soon as possible with a response.
Sincerely,
Markus and Eliot Slevin
Founders and Owners of Slevin Brother's Apothecaries
"Well? What does it say?" Alphard demanded, almost bouncing in his seat as he tried to see over Merissa's shoulder, which she continuously adjusted to block him, her eyes scanning down the page again.
Her face her melted down into a stiff base, revealing nothing, but she felt her heart thumping - or perhaps lumping - in the base of her throat. Behind her, Abraxas' eyes met the end of the parchment soon after her's did, a clear view over her with her attention so focused on evading Alphard's gaze.
"Deny them," Abraxas said quietly and her eyes darted to him, quickly realizing he had seen. He made no indication that he had said anything, calmly beginning to fill her plate as he always did. Anyone watching wouldn't have been able to tell anything was amiss.
"Why?" she hissed back, tucking the letter under her leg to prevent Alphard from further attempts. She barely heard his noises of protest over her own ruminating. Though it had not been a rejection, she was ashamed of it. The disapproval of the press and witches of no consequence did not bother her, but she had never considered how professionally it might affect her. Her father seemed to be right, for once. Image was everything in business.
"You may not like it, but you are your name," Abraxas murmured back.
Alphard was looking miffed, knowing them well enough to recognize that they were indeed talking, even if they were showing no obvious signs of it. She gave him a small smile and then turned from him entirely, focusing as best she could on something Druella was saying a few seats down.
As she began eating (mostly to appease Abraxas who was giving her imploring looks between bites of his own) Alphard shifted towards her, bumping into her arm as he reached for the gravy boat, dousing the steaming biscuits with it. She was acutely aware of his proximity.
"Who taught you your table manners, hm?" she teased, flicking his arm.
"A hippogriff, my mother would claim," he bantered back, either ignoring or not aware of her meaning.
She took out her book bag, deciding she had eaten enough and that it would make a proper barrier between herself and his shoulder, quell her racing mind she hoped. Taking out her Charms homework had the added advantage of an excuse to avoid anymore conversation. The chattering had begun picking up around her, and the request from Slevin had put her in a mood.
Quickly she began questioning the wisdom of this decision however, the topic being wand etiquette, which she was awful at. She silently cursed this being the assignment she had pulled out, not wanting to openly struggle - least of all in front of Tom Riddle, who had recently taken a seat across from her. She began scratching away making up fluff as she went, taking lengthy breaks in between lines to let the ink dry.
"Pass the kettle?" Alphard requested.
She nodded absentmindedly, coming off her seat ever so slightly when she did so. Almost instantly she realized this had been a strategic request as she felt the envelope shift under her leg. Sitting down as quickly as she could whilst pushing his hand away, she managed to secure the parchment back under her again.
She would have been certain that someone would have noticed their exchange, except for the fortune that Druella had started choking on her pumpkin juice at that very moment, probably laughing too zealously at something Andrew had said. Everyone glanced at her with concern as Avery attempted to help her and Nott looked on with a rather disgusted expression.
Merissa glanced around the table, still slightly paranoid. Apparently, it wasn't misplaced either, because Riddle was watching her. She blushed slightly, realizing what he must have assumed from her and Alphard's exchange and turned her eyes back to safer territory.
"I'm fine," Druella insisted, catching Merissa's attention again. The mousy-haired girl had tears running down her face from coughing, and was still gasping slightly, "Just need a moment."
Merissa watched her mildly as she dashed away, and started to stand. Even if she didn't particularly like Druella, she was clearly upset.
"You're the last person she wants to see her like that, save maybe Nott," Abraxas reminded, pulling her back down smoothly.
She allowed him, knowing this was true. When she thought about it, Druella had never done anything to earn her disdain - save being a bit shallow. She didn't deserve to be antagonized.
"Isn't that true," Avery laughed, clapping Nott on the back, "You and Rosier."
Druella's brother, just a few seats down had turned scarlet, his chin almost touching the table as he attempted to make himself even smaller, sinking below it. Merissa felt a twinge as she regarded the speccy top of his thin forehead, realizing he was preparing himself if his sister's actions somehow were to see reflected on himself. They were always so harsh with Davao - it was easy to be when he was so much smaller than the rest of them. Almost seemed to be the natural order of things.
Andrew, however, appeared annoyed, straightening the page of the broom catalogue he was scanning with a impaint flick of his wrist, "I have given her no reason to value my opinion so highly," he said shortly, with much more formality than he usually used with his teammates.
He had been in an uncharacteristically severe mood since the release of the article. He lacked the pluck to engage heavily with anyone involved in controversy, so Druella had become a near constant companion in Merissa's absence. Not that she minded.
"Are you mad?" Avery argued, gaping at him incredulously, "She's one of the most attractive girls in our house. What more could you ask for?" The older Rosier twin sunk deeper still, nearly below the table now.
"There are hardly any girls in our house, Phillip," Andrew argued, pushing back his sand colored hair. A few stray strands returned to his forehead almost at once, making him frown. He tried to part his hair effortlessly, all too obviously inspired by Tom, but lacked the persistence to get it right, a sad imitation at best.
"Never stopped you before," Abraxas countered, slightly blocking Merissa from his view.
She wondered if he even realized he was doing it, or if defending her was second nature to him now. She appreciated it as she tried to keep her eyes on her nearly completed Charms homework, still aware of Riddle's vigilant stare. She couldn't for the life of her remember the next word she had meant to scribble down and she knew it would not come to when she was so entirely focused on keeping every muscle still, so she stared at the direct center of the page.
"There are, in fact, other houses, Malfoy," Nott said slyly.
Merissa felt an uncomfortable urge to laugh. This situation had become far too awkward as Alphard also seemed to draw closer too, as if to obscure her from Andrew's view and therefore mind. Her eyes went up and finally met Riddle's. He looked like he also might laugh, possibly because only a sliver of her was visible between the two boys, and possibly because even through the sliver she looked squished as both of their shoulders were pressed against her. The rare expression made his face light up for a moment, making her heart pound. Her face naturally returned the expression. Then, as soon as it came, it was gone and they both looked away from each other.
"Do you three need to go outside and work something out?" Phillip asked exasperatedly, glancing between Abraxas, Andrew and Alphard. It was hard for Merissa to believe no one else had noticed the change, and she thought she might have imagined it. This was enough, it seemed for Andrew to abandon the confrontation although but Abraxas continued to glower through Avery's words, "I am tired of this tension and you're crushing your girlfriend."
Abraxas turned to Merissa, realizing this was true and scooted back over. Meanwhile, Tom's usual cool facade had returned as he addressed his devotees, "I hardly think that will be necessary, Avery. Right Nott, Malfoy?"
"Of course," Nott agreed immediately. He was hardly one to disagree with Riddle, least of all on one of his fleetings fancies.
Abraxas pressed his lips together as he looked at Riddle, "It seems unlikely," he finally conceded. Merissa personally wished they would both let it go before Tom ended up murdering someone, just to be done with it.
"We should go," Abraxas determined, glancing at his watch as he took his last bite of breakfast. Apparently the tension wasn't lost to him either, "You wouldn't want to be late for herbology. You will be planting the cabbages back in the gardens today."
Merissa felt her body snap into action, rolling up her scroll and depositing her book back inside her bag, before her mind had caught up from the shock that had been the briefest of exchanges with Riddle and - feeling a bit of an idiot - she replied as quickly as she could.
"Good riddance," she sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and accepting Abraxas' hand to pull herself to her feet, "Nasty thing nearly took out my thumb last week. I hope we work on something less aggressive next, like a venomous tentacula."
Abraxas gave her a strange look but didn't say anything until the heavy oak doors of the castle had closed behind them. She could tell he was about to berate her so she hurried ahead down the stone steps, hoping if they could get to their destination first he would forget.
"Less aggressive like a tentacula?" he demanded, lengthening his strides to keep up with her hasty pace.
"Its all that came to my mind!" she defended. A brief scan of the grounds behind her confirmed no one was there for the actual Herbology class yet, so she squeezed behind the greenhouse, continuing, "You should have known better than to try to talk plants with me."
"You are apparently going to herbology," Abraxas sighed after her, ducking into the small shed used for greenhouse storage as well.
They had made this place their meeting place for most mornings, the most inconspicuous place they could fathom, still comfortably close to their actual class destinations. It was damp and smelled strongly of the soil that was kept inside, but it was safe, and that much could not be said about any place in the castle.
Merissa put up several wards before turning back to Abraxas expectantly. He sighed and turned his eyes up the the rafters, pulling his fingers through his silvery blond hair.
"What do you want me to tell you?" he asked, almost as if he were speaking to a higher power. Merissa scoffed.
"I want you to tell me what you've been telling me. Has he done anything from his normal routine? Does he still leave to go visit that bathroom at odd hours of the night? Has he said anything in his sleep lately? We need clues on how close he is, Abraxas. Until I learn enough Parseltongue to open the chamber and wrangle whatever is in there we need to have a sense of where he is."
She gazed up at him, desperately willing him to understand how important this was. He had been reluctant lately and she knew exactly why. Now that they were both in Riddle's favor it was harder to justify risking so much to stop him. Abraxas so desperately wanted Riddle to do the right thing, he had convinced himself that he would.
"Nothing had changed in his schedule, Mer," he insisted, "That's not just something I say in less protected places, I mean it. I'm not sure of anything except that he hasn't opened it yet."
"Of course," Merissa said pointedly, "That doesn't mean he hasn't figured it out. He could just be waiting for an opportune moment."
"Yes," Abraxas admitted, "It could."
Merissa sighed again and began pacing in the small space like a confined animal. That was how she felt so often now, waiting for something to happen, for them to be discovered, for them to win, whatever happened first. She knew Abraxas' resolve was slipping and she knew that the greatest risk was him becoming afraid.
"What does he say in his sleep?" she asked again.
"Nothing," Abraxas repeated, "I don't know. He just hisses for a second or two. It's probably Parseltongue."
"That's not nothing!" Merissa insisted, angry that he was being so dismissive. A ripple of her annoyance shook some soil down on them.
"Its nothing helpful," Abraxas frowned, brushing his cloak off. He glanced up to see her hopeful expression, adding quickly, "And no Merissa I will not sneak you into my dormitory to listen to him hiss in his sleep. Don't ask."
Merissa bit her lip. She was getting too emotional if her thoughts were written so plainly on her face. She considered still making an argument for that tactic but Abraxas' jaw was hard set, so she surrendered.
"Let me give you the cloaks," Abraxas insisted, "I know my bag is bigger but I can't stand having them in my room with Riddle so close by all the time. It makes me too nervous."
She accepted the bundle of silvery cloth from him, shoving it beneath her books without argument. Abraxas could have these little victories if he liked them. All she cared was that he didn't abandon their cause entirely, because more than needing someone on the inside even, she needed someone on her side. It was lonely keeping so many secrets. Not even Abraxas was she completely honest with.
Replacing her bag on her shoulder she gazed at him expectantly, hoping he might tell her more now that she was being agreeable. For moment, he seemed like he wanted to say something, but then it passed as quickly as it came and he pushed open the door for her, less a gentlemanly act than an expression that he was done talking about this. Rather defeated, Merissa allowed herself to be escorted to Herbology.
Once inside the muggy greenhouse, she was joined by Susan, and was planning on not saying a word until Abby and James arrived, as was custom. But after a vague good morning, the taller girl put her head down on her bag and allowed her satiny hair to obscur half of her face, eyes closed already.
Merissa hadn't studied Susan's face in a while, or been so close to her for that matter, but now that she was, she discovered the girl did not look the same. Her skin had lost some of it's bronze glow, favoring a color that was almost grey. This only made the bags under her eyes more prominent, and her shoulders were uncharacteristically slumped against the greenhouse table. Susan Nigellus, the very definition of vigor, appeared entirely worn down.
Trying to distract herself from the unpleasant tightness that had suddenly developed in her throat, Merissa busied herself with preparing the materials for the day, pleased when she collected their cabbage, hoping to bury it deep in the earth. Placing the vegetative mass, still asleep onto the table, she caught sight of the wreckage that were Susan's hands, beat and calloused from the quaffle she so commonly spent her afternoons lobbing at Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor match was upcoming, and according to Abby's carefully laid remarks, no one had been training longer or more brutally than Susan.
Merissa yanked off her dragonhide gloves and discarded them on the table to give herself something to do, figuring she wouldn't need them again until after a lecture about not murdering the cabbages. The rest of the class was slow to trickle in, and even craning her neck, Merissa couldn't see any signs of Abby's vibrant curls. Chewing on her tongue, she simply couldn't stand the silence anymore.
"Prewett learned a new maneuver," she finally blurted out.
Susan raised her head, surprise evident on her face. Merissa's word's continued tumbling off her tongue, "He can barrel roll on his broom, not to dodge but to throw the quaffle in the opposite direction than it appears he will."
Susan was looking increasingly flabbergasted, but Merissa refused to meet her expression, coughing consciously instead. A few beats later, they were joined by Abby and James, saving them from being swallowed alive by the thick silence.
"I am about ready to keel over if that's what it takes to get a break around here," Abby griped, pulling out her copy of One-Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi, "Do you think jumping into the Poisonous Prickly Pear would give me a few days in the hospital wing?"
Merissa grinned, "St. Mungo's, if you're lucky."
Abby sighed as if the idea were romantic, as Susan reminded her, "We have just over a month until Easter holiday now. Don't get any crazy ideas."
"Forty-four days, not including today," James quipped as if this were offhand knowledge. No one batted an eye at this anymore.
Professor Assleman entered shortly after and gave the expected speech - the cabbages had to stay intact until they were in the ground. Merissa distinctly remembered hearing Alex Prince had blow up his cabbage with a firework a few years back and guessed that was why the professor was saying the words with so much intensity.
As the shuffling of the class began, sprinkling their cabbages with a mixture of ice plant juice and dirt to preserve them, Susan turned to Merissa rather hesitantly.
"Your birthday is coming up as well," she noted, "Just after the holiday begins."
Merissa wished she would have insisted on being the one preparing their cabbage now, because she had nothing to do but watch Abby, "It is," she agreed crisply.
"Are you spending it with Abraxas?" Susan asked.
Merissa narrowed her eyes as the cabbage attempted one final time to cleave off one of James's fingers as he gently patted the mixture onto its sides. She didn't know what Susan was getting at, but if she thought giving her a birthday gift would remedy the betrayal to Clarence Day, she was wrong.
"I am," Merissa affirmed, although no plans were made yet. She was expecting once she returned home her mother would all but chain her to her bed frame until it was time to join the Malfoy's at the Black home in London. Her expectations were grim for how she would spend her sixteenth birthday.
Susan nodded, pulling on her gloves as well and beginning to follow James - who was holding the vicious plant at arm's length as he proceeded out the door. Abby and Merissa followed, Abby still grumbling about the lack of concern Asselman seemed to have for their fingers. Outside, other groups were placing their cabbages carefully into holes Asselman and his assistant had dug prior to class for them. Elizabeth Springer and her friends were already finished and the girl waved at Merissa as she passed by. Merissa returned it with a smile. Most people, it seemed, had decided the scandal was either old news or codswallop, as the reporter's intentions became clearer every day.
"Why do you ask, Nigellus?" Merissa finally bit, as they observed James' entombing the vegetable back into the earth.
"I noticed you spend a lot of time with him now," Susan shrugged, though she clearly thought more of it, because she was watching Merissa sidelong.
Merissa reached down a gloved hand into the dirt as they began to cover their project with soil. In the hole, now coated in earthworms and damp earth, it shook, attempting to brush itself off. Clearly, it wasn't fond of the idea of spending the spring underground. Watching it bought her some time to consider what Susan might be after. Although it would have been easier to think Susan was still chasing dirt, Merissa logically knew it was far more likely she was simply curious. After the rather explosive start of the term between Abraxas and herself, it was simple to see how confusing it would seem to someone, them sneaking away together, apparently to snog at all hours of the day.
"Abraxas is everything a young man should be," Merissa told her, tone flat, "He's handsome, well-mannered and ambitious. I couldn't hope to find a better match."
"He is," Susan agreed. Merissa could tell she didn't buy any it it.
Merissa's frustration was furtherer, if anything, because it was true as well. Abraxas was all of those things, and despite his preferences, she was quite lucky. With him she could expect comfort, entertainment and an agreeable match for as long as she lived. Though some might fault him on the fact they would likely never have children or that it would be an uncomfortable process if they did, Merissa had never put enough thought into the idea to be attached to it.
Rather, what Merissa knew absolutely was the crux of the matter was that marrying Abraxas terrified her. Even the most benevolent husband was still just that: a husband. While this meant all sorts of things to different people, to Merissa it only meant one - the death of her self. Marriage, a household, children, all of it was a cage by another name. Some women flourished under it, rose above it and found joy in it. Women who were made for such things were far and plenty. But then there were all types of people, and as much as some liked to pretend otherwise, women were no exception. There were the other type of women, like Merissa's own mother. Merissa had seen the photographs taken in her youth, and with the black and white washing away her auburn hair, she was a spitting image of Merissa, perhaps the most disturbing similarity a protruded chin. Rosalynn Thorpe - by all accounts other than from her parents - had been a proud talented witch when she was younger. That was Merissa's worst fear, to become her own mother. She would rather bury her soul the way they buried the chomping cabbage, pleased to be rid of it.
Class was dismissed shortly after they had all returned inside, and Merissa walked alongside James's on the way back up the the castle, hoping Abby's gabbing would keep Susan from asking her anymore questions.
"How is your research going?" Merissa asked James. The last few early morning classes she had missed him around the forest, though she allowed it was probably because she was hardly there in anything except body.
"Complicated," James explained, "Merrythought made it clear actually meeting the centaurs is out of the question, so I've been cataloging their hoof prints. Interesting, the changes they have in how far or close they stay from the center of the forest given celestial events. Aries stays low in the sky, yet they seek its rise every week."
Merissa frowned, recalling that was incorrect from Astronomy, but didn't correct him. If anyone could decipher the star gazing patterns of these creatures, it would be him.
"How is your's going? I notice your path takes your deeper still into the forest," he commented.
Apparently he was corrected about her migration patterns at least, "I'm trying to track down a hinkypunk. I keep thinking I see one but the light goes out before I can be sure," she smiled ironically, "I suppose that's the point of the little goblins though."
James nodded again and they lapsed into comfortable silence.
Heading back into the castle, Merissa caught sight of a familiar mousy head of hair and excused herself from her friends, quickly catching up with Druella Rosier, also in route for the dungeons.
"Headed to potions?" Merissa asked brightly, her tone sounding artificial even to her own ears. She wanted to wince at the sound but smiled at the girl instead.
"Oh hello, Merissa!" Druella greeted. Her voice also had more edge than usual.
"I was worried about you, you ran off after breakfast," Merissa told her, deciding that hedging around the topic was pointless when the girl was so obviously still thinking about it.
Druella was silent for a moment, but before Merissa could gauge her expression she laughed a high pitch peal, just a few seconds too delayed, "That was nothing!"
Merissa didn't respond, just tightened her lips and stared ahead, uncomfortable already but knowing she - as a reasonably decent person - should help this girl. More to the point, she knew she was compelled to do this, especially because of the terrible clenching of her stomach when she thought about how she had failed to notice Susan's affections for Alphard and subsequently snogged him . . . twice.
"I see the way you look at Nott," Merissa said slowly. She couldn't help but remember his biting words about Druella this morning. Andrew really was a pig.
"And?" Druella challenged, suddenly uncharacteristically aggressive. Merissa stared at her but the sneer was gone in a blink, she swore she must have imagined it, "Sorry, I meant, what do you mean?" she lowered her voice conspiratorially, a gleaning smile on her face, "Do you fancy him?"
"No," Merissa said firmly, stopping herself from explaining why she would never be interested in such a person. That would hardly be constructive, when Druella felt the way she did, "I've just noticed."
"I think he notices you a lot more," Druella lamented.
That seemed an understatement, but again, would be less than helpful to say out loud. Merissa missed Susan despite herself. She might also be daft with boys, but at least she never got this sad puppy expression over them. What was she supposed to tell her, interested in someone as useless as Nott? It felt almost irresponsible to encourage it.
"I don't care about anyone except Abraxas," Merissa assured her astutely, "I want to help you."
Druella stared at her with considerable surprise. Merissa wondered if she found her being eager to do so more surprising or that she would have insight on such things. The girl appeared impressed at the very least.
"Nott likes when you listen, but he also likes to feel like he's chasing something," Merissa told her, rather undertone. She didn't fancy Olive Hornby , or even worse, Nott himself, getting ahold of the idea she was after Andrew Nott.
"You think it would help if he felt like he's chasing me?" Druella clarified, frowning.
"Yes," Merissa nodded, grateful she was catching on quickly, "Just for a little, see how that goes. Don't make it actually difficult for him of course, juts make him feel like it is."
He doesn't want an actual challenge, Merissa thought, rolling her eyes internally.
"Okay," Druella agreed, trepidation clear in her voice, though connotated with some determination. She revered Merissa and therefore her advice, it seemed.
Merissa smiled at her encouragingly as they entered the potions classroom and she took her place at her table, Riddle still absent. A few desks down, Merissa heard Druella begin chatting with Avery who was at Nott's desk, but not Andrew himself. Smirking to herself, Merissa began organizing her kit. Only then did she glance at Tom's seat.
It had been three days since she had spoken to him and though she swore she didn't care, she nearly sighed in relief when he entered the room, taking his seat beside her without a second glance.
"Riddle," she greeted him curtly, though her mood was greatly improved under her clipped tone.
"Thorpe."
His voice was the same disinterested drawl and her eyes flickered inadvertently to his face. He appeared the same as ever, not the slightest change in expression as he prepared his work space as well. He stood to collect their materials from the front of the class before she had come up with something else to say and she felt a bubble of annoyance rise in her chest. He really wasn't going to explain his absence then? After being absent from potions Friday and Arithmancy this morning, cancelling the his group meeting all after threatening her, he had nothing to say to her. She shouldn't have been surprised, but she was.
Merissa stewed while they began preparing their ingredients, and she kept her thoughts to herself until steam began rising from their cauldron. Eyes narrowed at him as he carefully shredded ingredients, her irritation with his blaise attitude increasing with each swift, controlled motion of his hand.
"You were gone last class," she finally said, watching him throw a handful of grated poppy stems into the brew.
He looked up at her, his dark eyes meeting hers across the dancing rings of steam. He tilted his head to one side as he considered her, "I was," he agreed as if he were commenting on the weather.
"Why was that?" she asked pointedly.
He raised his eyebrows at her, "I was otherwise engaged."
"Obviously," she snapped. His nonchalance was infuriating. She began skinning their figs with unnecessary violence. He was still watching her as if she were the lesson instead of the potion. She felt horribly conflicted about it.
"I just thought you were avoiding me," she admitted, nearly slicing her finger off with a rather viciously stab of her knife into the fruit. His hands took the fig and knife from her and was slicing with much more care before she could argue. The exchange was managed without even the slightest brush of fingers, Tom careful as ever. He didn't berate her for trying to murder their potions ingredients, at least.
"While rather irritating when you're being insolent, otherwise your company is less than disagreeable," he said smoothly, his eyes contained by his project.
She wanted to stare at him, try to deconstruct his expression, but she stopped herself. It wouldn't be useful, and sometimes now when she looked at him she noticed how straight his facial features were, which was entirely besides the point. Instead she just continued stirring, if not somewhat less ferociously. By the time she was done, the potion was nearly finished.
"It looks passable," he admitted, peering into the pewter cauldron to the amber contents, spinning like a tiny whirlpool under Merissa's practiced hand.
Its looks perfect she thought indignantly, but considering this thought she stopped herself from replying. This type of exchange was exactly the same as it had been for months. She had thought this very thought before after a similar comment. It shouldn't have bothered her, but it did.
Gathering her materials she gave him a saccharine smile, "You don't mind bottling and cleaning up today, do you Riddle?" she simpered.
His might as well hissed at her with his expression, but he didn't dare deny her request with Slughorn in earshot. His eyes flickered calculatingly between her and their professor before saying rather loudly, in the voice he reserved for class, "Why of course, Thorpe. I don't mind in the slightest."
She gave him rather twisted smile before departing from the room. Still unsettled at her own reaction, Merissa dropped her bag off in her dormitory before she made refuge in the library, and was allowed an hour of solitude before Riddle sought her out.
"I was under the impression our last conversation made things quite clear," he sneered, making her start from her Transfiguration paper.
Though she had been downright agitated when she had entered the room, after a few minutes of working meticulously through the next weeks homework she had regained a sense of control and by now was feeling rather serene. That was, up until she met his gaze and felt irked all over again. A sneer was a disgusting look on his face. She glared back down at her parchment where she had now spotted with ink in her fright.
"Quite clear," she snapped, while fanning the ink to dry, although she was perfectly aware the last conversation was exactly why she had lashed out.
"Then why, exactly, was I subjected to staying behind to clean up your mess?" he questioned, a hand covering the page she was referencing and pulling it away from her when she attempted to return to her work.
She rolled her eyes up at him, "Honestly Riddle, I think you can handle corking a vial," she mocked, reaching a hand out for her book. He moved it farther away.
"The question is not if I can, but rather if I should have to," he scoffed, holding her eyes sternly.
She glared at him, "You're a real arse, you know that?"
He continued looking at her with disdain, the flash of his eyes only momentary, "I can hardly be bothered with your opinion of me, as long as you stop this nonsense. I won't be so lenient next time I find you insubordinate."
This time, it was Merissa who scoffed. As she considered him, leaned over the table supported on his arms, she couldn't help but feel this was all they had been doing all year. Even if he had changed the name of the game, it was still just that - a game. A deadly game that she had been sucked up into before she realized what it was. A game she still didn't know the rules to or even the objective. And despite all of her efforts, she was still losing, no upper hand to hold no matter how she grasped at them, her popularity, the chamber, his secrets. Tom Riddle was always one step ahead, raging forward, uncaring, calculated. Playing didn't serve anyone except him.
"I thought this would be different," she muttered, snatching up her parchment and ink. Making any more progress today seemed unlikely now that she was so thoroughly ruffled. She didn't like that he had so much power over her, to derail her entire day.
"Why would anything be different?" he asked.
Her stomach turned uneasily. Worse still was the consideration he might not be doing anything, and she instead was creating it in her mind. She wanted to believe she wasn't so delusional, yet Tom made a good argument. Why, even if she had imagined nothing, would anything be different? She huffed, snatching back her Transfiguration textbook as she walked out.
He was right, even if he hadn't meant to be. Tom was unchanging, though he was impulsive, he never altered in state, like a rock in the ocean being pounded against by the waves. Even if half submerged by water, one could tell the quality of it by looking at the top. Tom wasn't good, and she was as foolish as Abraxas if she pretended otherwise.
He wasn't good for anyone, especially not her.
Merissa glanced at the entrance to the dungeon as she passed by. She was supposed to meet Abraxas but now the idea was entirely unappealing, so she continued on up the steps to the Ravenclaw common room. She had expected to just plant herself in bed until dinner time, and she made it all the way through the airy common room, up the stairs and into her dormitory before she realized this wouldn't be possible. Her bed was already occupied, someone sitting on it, waiting for her.
"Would you like to explain yourself, Merissa Rose?" Susan snapped and for a moment Merissa was going to laugh at the use of her middle name, something her mother called her when upset, almost exclusively.
But then she realized just how serious the girl's expression was. Merissa blinked, recognizing her bag crumpled on the floor, its contents spilled out and the silvery cloak in Susan's fist. Merissa felt the blood drain from her face, and indeed from her entire head it seemed as she stared, unable to come up with an acceptable explanation for a few telling moments. Susan's expression became more incredulous still, prompting Merissa to sputter out lies faster than she knew she could.
"If you must know, Nigellus, sometimes Abraxas and I fancy a bit of privacy," she snapped, pulling the silvery fabric from the girl with as much affront as she could.
Susan raised her eyebrows and turned to continue watching Merissa as she stuffed the cloaks back into her bag, the rest of the contents on top.
"Why would you need two cloaks if you were sneaking off to snog anyways?" Susan asked, though her tone was almost rhetorical.
Merissa scoffed, giving herself a moment as she pretended to search for a book from the pile on her desk, "Sometimes we come from different parts of the castle."
"Right," Susan agreed, moving onto Merissa's desk, "Then you would both have one."
Merissa gave her a warning look as she turned to her bed, adamantly avoiding the girl's eyes for too long. She considered making a break for the door, but Susan was much faster than her, and even if she did make it, no doubt the girl would continue questioning her in the much less private common room.
"Why would you hide them so carefully from us then?" the taller girl drilled tenaciously, "And what are you going off to do in them anyways?"
"Well obviously I need some added privacy with someone as nosy as you around," Merissa snapped, feeling rather exhausted as she rounded on the girl, "And I've already told you, we go off to neck for a while."
Susan's face remained unimpressed, "I really don't see why you would need to sneak off to neck when neither of you are attracted to each other."
Merissa sputtered at the allegation indignantly, but she felt the blood pooling in her limbs from shock and a moment later she had to catch herself on a bedpost, prevented from making any meaningful argument against the claim.
Apparently it was obvious how she was feeling because Susan moved forward quickly to help her onto her bed before her knees could buckle.
"Merlin, Re, what did you do?" Susan whispered, pulling her into a gentle embrace and patting her hair. Merissa inhaled rather raggedly, forcing her back to remain upright. If only Susan knew.
Hola reader fam. Here my patented apology for taking so long to update, I really wanted this chapter to be good and long so I worked on it a lot, I hope it was(: It was 10k words which I think may be a record for a chapter here, so that's exciting. Thank you for everyone who has followed and favorited and reviewed since my last update. You all have been so wonderful about reviewing lately, though I usually respond at the end of every other update, I am responding here so I don't miss any. Someone sent me a passive aggressive anon about my review responses taking up too much space? Which I'm definitely never going to apologize for, giving through responses to people who take the time to review, but that is why I put these at the end of the chapter now, so they are out of the way, so chill whoever that was.
Please tell me what you think of this chapter - I know its my first cliffhanger of sorts! The next chapter will start off with a Susan POV of what happens directly after this so I look forward to posting that! As I'm going through, I'm thinking of incorporating more of Susan and Abraxas POV, what do you all think of that? Has the Abraxas been good so far? I don't know, I like writing from him but if its not working I want to know. In general I would love to hear what your predictions are about how the rest of this conversation with Merissa and Susan will pan out and anything else. Anyways on that note, here is to my wonderful reviewers:
Purretzel: No, thank you for your review! Haha. I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long with this update when you said you were dying for the next chapter, I really tried not to. Also, in this chapter you have your answer for what he was doing during potions. I'm an OC or die kind of person, so I completely understand where you're coming from. I will never for the life of me understand why OC is so stigmatized when there is Harry/Sorting Hat fics out there (not to hate its just not my cup of tea and beyond that just boggles my mind). Anyways don't mean to rant in your response at all, especially when it was so kind. Thank you again for taking the time to review!
beefsupreme: I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I can now openly say how much I love Susan as a character. I look so forward to giving her the fleshing out and dimension that she deserves. Merissa is a sass queen indeed, like I've said before she writes herself. Tom had been awfully sneaky, and I can tell you he is up to more than one something right now. We may or may not see the conversation between him and Slughorn from the memory coming up soon here. Thank you for your review!
beaniebun: Haha, glad I could make you laugh! I love writing Tom's inner monologue, he's just great. So happy you enjoyed chapter 15, its controversial and I actually lost a fair amount of followers when I posted it and had a hard time about that at the time. Its nice to be here now and feel confident about it, because I know its what I wanted to happen, and it had meaning for both characters. Abraxas and his little puppy dog eyes break my heart and warm it simultaneously. Definitely plenty of respect between Merissa and Tom, once they got to that impasse of realizing they were matched. Its so interesting to hear the conflicting opinions on Alphard, truly did not expect him to be so polarizing(: Lots more coming so I hope you continue to enjoy! Thank you for your review.
src: Let me just take a moment to say how much I enjoyed seeing your reviews come in one after another. It was a blast, I'm so happy to see how people recieve my story in the beginning and how that progresses. Let me also warn you that I am going to do my best to respond to all your reviews here, right now. When I was going down the reviews I needed to respond to, when I got to yours I had to double check I hand't gone too far down the page, because I have read them so many times now (as you left them quite a while ago and I haven't updated in so long, whoops) that I had already replied in my mind. I was absolutely thrilled to see someone got into the story just two chapters in. That writing was from over a year ago now and sometimes I feel like it isn't at the level it should be, but I appreciate you saying so. I try to make Merissa a believable human being, so I'm glad she comes across as dimensional. You got Abraxas being gay so early! Ah! It was also my intention that he would be but most people were absolutely shocked when I revealed it. I just think that's so cool you noticed so quickly(: Him and Alphard are struggling along here and let me tell you, it wont be an easy road for either of them, having feelings for who they do. Abraxas is about to have a huge test upon him relating to his feelings for Tom and how conflicted he is about them. As for the story having no happy ending, a lady never tells. Being invested hahaha I know it all too well. I spend so much time thinking about this story. Merissa and Tom have tension but at this point I would still call it more plain tension than sexual tension. Merissa is becoming pretty confused (and in denial) with everything that she's feeling but Tom? Don't know that he recognizes anything yet, except for the fact that she's too useful to kill and something about her infuriates him. More recently a touch clearer, him calling her coddling with Abraxas nauseating. But all in good time. Also he's just entirely emotionally incompetent.
On the topic of Thomas, yes Thomas! That's so funny that it reminded you of that movie, I've never heard of that movie but I might have to look into it now(: He's great, its fun making someone so entirely absurd when most of the characters are so serious. Obviously she hasn't been introduced yet, but Abraxas' mother will be a similar character, as the crying over Merissa and sending her nearly grown son sparkly robes might imply.
Seriously never apologize for reviewing no matter the circumstances, I LOVED reading them so much especially again the progression throughout the chapters. Also quoting lines back to me, nearly made me tear up, agh. I actually have been playing with the idea of an orphanage run in, since she wanders the cities when she's bored over holidays. Nothing written yet, but anything can happen, especially when I have encouragement like that(: I can guarantee that Merissa and Tom will have mutual impact on each other more than anyone else in their lives.
It was so fun to read that you preferred Susan over Alphard, especially when I had this chapter mostly finished already with Susan coming back around. You make a good point with Susan standing up to Tom being more valuable than an apology. I think the fact that Susan went back to berating her right after nulled the fact in her mind, but you're right. Its been hard having them mad at each other for so long when I friendship ship them so hard. Again, looking very forward to giving Susan her moment. A lot of Merissa's preference for men as company stems from her relationship with her father, which will be explained in a lot more depth in a few chapters time. Essentially since she's never gotten his approval, she looks for it in figures she likens to him. Although I will say, Merissa loves Susan more than Abraxas or Alphard, and vice versa.
Interesting likening with Alphard as well, I'm sorry to hear that happened to you. I can definitely see how that would make a negative impact on him as a character. Even in this chapter we see him being flirty. All I can say is that Alphard will obviously not be endgame or game at all, and I hope that is a good reassurance. Can I ask, what's your opinion on Nott? I'm intrigued now. Polyjuice you say? Yes there will be plenty of that haha.
I really like the comparison of Abraxas to Jaime Lannister. I totally get that.
Tom never being loved or trusted by anyone was such an important point! I absolutely believe that he was made into a monster and not born one. Even Dumbledore, or maybe particularly Dumbledore was so suspicious of him, and maybe rightfully so and maybe not but either way the bitterness in which he talks about it ("he certainly kept an annoying close eyes on me"). And in the way in this story when we see him preparing himself for Dumbledore to more or less pass by his transfiguration despite it being the best, which I think goes along well with your idea that he wants to matter. I would almost argue he wants to punish people who don't think he matters. I want to get so much more into this but I'm looking at how long this is becoming and ah probably annoying to read this much.
Tom and his reasons, I plan to get into that a tonnn more especially in his sixth year. I have so many spoilers I am dying to spill but I will contain myself and leave it interesting for now, but its killing me. Your English is perfect, I didn't have an inkling it wasn't your native language, so no worries there. Thank you, thank you, thank you for leaving me such wonderful, detailed reviews! It was amazing to read through them all(: