He had made a mistake. Tom had realized this after their first night of patrols. After reflecting on how anybody in the world could reject him not once but twice.

The mistake was showing her who he really is right away.

From their very first meeting, something about her had made him snap out of the usual charming facade he wore. Perhaps it had been the way she had dared to spar with him head on, perhaps it had been how cleverly she had disguised insults behind her unceasing politeness, or perhaps it had been her tenacity in following him around the castle.

Whatever it was, it had caused him to stray from his mission of gathering information into one much less noble. Scaring her off. Really, what he had done had been relatively benign, but it had been enough. Enough to put her on guard against him. Enough to make her question every word out of his mouth. Enough to make her avoid him.

Normally, girls liked being teased a little. Being chased. Being wanted. At first, he'd thought he could play it off as that, so she'd assume his behavior was misguided rather than malicious. But it hadn't worked. He'd thought that as soon as he turned up the charm, she'd fall like everyone else. But she hadn't. Far from it, in fact. The memory of the heat of her flames against his arms still comes back to him sometimes, like he's on fire all over again.

No, she hadn't fallen for any of his acts and, if he kept focusing on immediate gratification rather than repairing the foundation of their relationship, she probably never would. But she had kissed him back, even if it had been for the briefest second. She had all but admitted she liked it. This gave him assurance that there was in fact a relationship to be repaired.

Though her last request had given him pause. Cain had said she didn't really care about him - at least not more than she cared about herself, clearly - and yet she'd wasted one of her three slots on him when she could have used it to protect herself. And this despite not having any actual proof that Tom was hurting or intended to hurt Cain.

This despite the fact that she did have plenty of actual proof that Tom does wants to do plenty of things to her. She could have demanded he leave her alone outside of their existing obligations, or stop competing so fervently with her in at least one subject, or stop watching her across the dining table and common room, or stop teasing her.

As it stands, basically all she had demanded was that he not touch her against her will. A difficult rule to deal with in the short-term, but one he can find plenty of ways around. At least until her will fades. Until she acclimates to his presence and her stubborn resistance ends. Until she gives in to him.

Cain is a problem to be dealt with, but for now he needs to focus on bringing her over to his side. For now he will not concern himself with who else is standing at hers.

In pursuit of this goal, Tom is on his best behavior when he next sees her in potions on Monday. By best, he means most restrained. No "accidental" hand touches. No leaning over her to check her cauldron. No even asking if she wants to brew together. She's silent most of the time, lip bitten between her teeth while she stares down at her work with unfazed concentration. Slughorn lauds it as her best performance yet. She runs to Cain's side as soon as class finishes.

She shows up at the library alone on Tuesday and takes the seat across from him. He smiles and greets her briefly before returning to his own work. The hours pass in silence. By the end of them, her shoulders have dropped and she's no longer looking up at him nervously every few minutes. She accepts his invitation to walk down to dinner together and simply smiles at everyone's surprised looks before sliding into the space next to Cain.

The rest of the week passes in similar fashion. So does the next one. It is not much, but being ignored is still better than being avoided. He is still one step closer to her.

It is two Tuesdays later that this pattern finally breaks. He is walking to their usual table when he notices her sitting at her old one already. He is about to walk past her, assuming she will move over to join him when the time for their study session actually comes, assuming she does not want him to sit with her where none but the most wayward students could possibly see or hear them. Merlin, the things he could do to her in that back corner without being caught.

She looks up with a smile and a wave before he can walk past. When he just stands there staring at her, she raises an eyebrow and tilts her chin as if to ask if he's coming. His jaw ticks. Is this a trick or has she warmed to him already? How can she have, when she refuses to engage in anything but the most basic and necessary conversation with him? It must be some kind of trick then. Perhaps she will ask him for a favor - to leave early to work on her potions projects or to skip patrols that weekend for a date with Rosier or something like that.

He pushes his thoughts aside as he takes the seat across from her. She returns to her book, and he pulls out his own to start reading. Halfway through, she finally looks up at him.

"You offerred to help me, correct?" she asks. Not that the words themselves sound like much a question, but the way she is looking at him is.

"Yes," Tom forces in his most polite voice, trying to reserve any judgments about what she is up to, or at least stop them from creeping into his tone.

"Did you already finish your transfiguration essay?"

"Yes."

She smiles. Dazzling. Brilliant. Beautiful. Fake. She leans toward him, voice a notch brighter and deeper than usual as she says, "So do you mind if I take a look, just for reference? I can't quite figure out how to word this argument about the second exception."

"Of course," he responds after a second of pause, pulling his eyes away from her to dig it out of his bag. Really, he wants to say no. If she cannot figure out how to write her own essay, it's her own fault if she gets a bad mark. And her getting a bad mark is sure to help him in their constant battles for the top spot. Of course, he knows saying no wouldn't serve his other goals well. Anyway, she'll owe him after this.

When he looks back up after his thoughts have run their course and he has the essay rolled out on the table in front of him, she is gone from the seat across from him. He sees a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up to see her leaning over the table next to him. Fuck, she's close. Closer than she has been since their encounter by the courtyard. He can smell her everywhere. Can see her lip turning red where she is biting it as she concentrates on reading. Can see the way her skirt shifts to show her knees. If he just reached out a hand under the table… He curls his fingers around the arms of the chair and focuses on rebuilding the wall in his head instead.

Her fingers brush his arm. Her breath brushes against his ear as she whispers his name. His gaze snaps back to her, head turning to find her face only inches from his. The wall cracks. He cracks. His eyes narrow at her coy smile.

What are you doing, little witch?

Testing the strength of your commitment, Tom.

He understands her behavior now. If he is the one to break the rules, then she can withdraw from the whole thing. The question is why does she want to? She had been the one to propose it. Unless she regrets it after spending more time with him. Unless she wants an excuse to stay even further away from him.

He had thought things were going well. Unless that is the problem, in her eyes.

He just smirks back at her and says, "And what about the strength of my essay, Cass? Any suggestions for improvement?"

Her brow furrows for a second, almost imperceptible, surprise leaking out long enough for him to catch it before she replaces it with a neutral expression yet again. She steps back. He reminds himself not to reach out, keeping his hands under the table until she is back at her seat, which is when she answers him, "As a matter of fact, yes. You wrote about conjuring money, but not the rules around conjuring substitutes for money, such as gold or silver."

He did not mean to start an hour long discussion with her about the laws of transfiguration, but it appears he has. They are still debating how far the concept of substitution for money could theoretically extend when a knock on the bookshelves behind Tom breaks their concentration.

Cain is leaning there, his usual casual, carefree grin on his face. If Tom didn't notice the way he was still tapping his fingers back against the wood, he'd almost believe it. A telltale sign that Cain wants to hit something but knows he can't.

"Cass, you're late for dinner," he calls. "Apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt, but I didn't want you to miss it. You too, of course, Tom."

"How considerate," Tom responds with a matching grin before turning back around and catching her eye briefly while he closes his books.

Prince Charming to the rescue. Though you don't look like a damsel in distress to me.

Then you shouldn't have nicknamed me Cinderella.

Perhaps I should have nicknamed you Lady Lilith. What would they think of you then?

A short, quiet laugh escapes her. Her eyes go wide and she snaps her mouth shut a second later. Snaps her gaze away from him and toward her books instead, shoving them quickly in her bag and muttering a farewell before walking away with Cain.

That evening, as Tom is on his way to bed, Cain steps in front of him. He moves to dodge around him, but Cain tries to get him to stop,"Tom - "

He pauses for a mere second to make sure he's looking at him when he says this, "You know, if you're this afraid of her leaving you, perhaps you should acknowledge that even you don't believe she really wants to be with you."

Cain stands there, jaw open. Tom walks past him and pulls the book he is working on out of his bedside drawer. It takes a moment, but Cain persists by turning back to him and restarting the conversation, "It is important to me that Cassandra is not placed in any danger."

Tom chuckles, this time not even bothering to look at him as he teases, "Oh, is that all you're worried about?"

He sees Lestrange try to step in and pull Cain away, but the ridiculous boy stands his ground, "I've asked you twice now, why can't you just leave her alone?"

Tom rolls his eyes and then smirks at him, "Your girlfriend can protect herself, Cain."

"My girlfriend shouldn't have to, Tom."

"You know she doesn't like this knight in shining armor act, right?"

"You know she doesn't like - "

"Cassandra and I are friends. Ask her," Tom challenges with a glare. "You know what that's like, being her friend, don't you?"

He glares back, fists flexing. Before he can respond, Lestrange pulls him around and whispers something in his ear. Cain looks back once, shakes his head, and storms out.

Tom only regrets it the next morning when he hears a rumor that somebody caught them in the common room at 3 a.m., her reading and him sleeping with his head in her lap.

From then on, study sessions are no longer so quiet. They sit in the back corner and interrupt each other's reading with questions, nitpick each other's assignments, and debate the finer details of magic. Both of their marks go up, so that they are nearly tied in every subject, constantly switching positions between second and first while everyone else falls miles behind.

Potions is the next area where she opens up. He purposefully makes a mistake the next Wednesday that she tells him how to correct, and then another one that cannot be corrected. Blaming distraction and fatigue, he abandons his own hopeless concoction in favor of working with her together at her station, and she does not object - likely simply because that day's potion calls for a lot of crushing and cutting of various live bugs, which he had noticed her grimacing at earlier, and if he can do those things instead she is willing to accept his proximity.

She does not circle the room avoiding him at defense tutoring as usual on Saturday morning, and he considers this the final sign of his victory. Albeit a small one. It is a work relationship really, nothing more. Simply the mutual exchange of knowledge and the acknowledgment that they could both better develop their skills through it. No personal discussions. No sitting next to each other outside of classes or the library. No warmth.

He starts trying to change that on Sunday with a planned diversion. There are only four weeks until the end of term, the deadline he'd given himself for being patient. He cannot afford to be quite as patient as before.

She does not notice until they have passed the trophy room. She has lapsed into silence again, walking at least ten paces behind him as she always does on patrols, clearly still uncomfortable with the idea of being truly alone with him, clearly not trusting him to behave without any wandering eyes to keep him in check yet.

"Where are we going?" she asks. "Don't patrols usually start - "

"I thought I'd finally give you that tour I owe you," he answers, careful to keep his tone light, careful to avoid scaring her by looking back at her.

She finally catches up to him, her interminable urge to argue with him overtaking her fear of being close to him, "I have been navigating this school for over two months, you know. I don't exactly need a tour to show me how to get around anymore."

"I know. This is a tour to show you all the best places in the castle."

"Are you trying to be nice?" she asks, eyes narrowed.

"I am trying to make up for my earlier mistakes, Cassandra."

"Why?"

"I thought the why was obvious."

"Once again, I have a boyfriend. And I am not interested in you, Tom."

"I just want to be friends, Cass."

She laughs, "Why would I want to be friends with you?"

He smiles despite her tone, "I can be very nice if you let me be."

She stops and turns to him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face, "Alright, let's see about that, Riddle."

He traps her against the wall, an arm outstretched against it by her side so that he can lean down and look her in the eyes as he says, "Cassandra, you are asking me to misbehave just so you can punish me for doing so. Do you think that's fair?"

"I am not asking you to do anything."

"It's my right within the rules, which you agreed to, you know."

"Just because you have the right it doesn't mean you have to take advantage of it."

"Have you ever met a boy who wouldn't if he were given the chance?"

"Yes."

"Lestrange doesn't count."

"How do you - "

"As if it could be more obvious. Answer truthfully," he orders. She does not respond. He sighs after a few seconds. "You are asking me to be a better person than I am, Cassandra."

"Or you can think of it as giving you an opportunity for personal growth, Tom. A chance to practice your self-restraint in this area, since evidentially you've never had anybody say no to you before."

That would be true, if I had ever wanted to do half of these things to anyone else.

He does not mean for her to hear it. He isn't looking at her when he thinks it. He's looking at the wall and analyzing the situation. Her expression is playful. She is not trying to push against him or escape. But he can see the fear behind her eyes, and he needs to calm it before he can move any further toward his plans.

He leans down to press a kiss against her forehead and then whispers before stepping away, "I cannot promise I will always be able to live up to it, so tread carefully, little witch."

He starts with the restricted section, then the astronomy tower for the view, and saves for last his favorite hidden gem, something he has never shared with anyone else before. She just looks at him confused as they stand in an empty corridor and he asks, "What would you want to add to this castle if you could?"

She thinks for a moment before answering, "A conservatory. Beauxbatons had one. It was like a forest. You could get lost in it."

"Think about that and pace back and forth three times."

She rolls her eyes at him, a skeptical look on her face the entire time she is following his instructions. It actually takes her until the fifth pass to realize a door has appeared. She looks back at him but he does not say anything, simply tilting his head to indicate she should go ahead.

As soon as she walks in she mumbles, "Merlin, this is amazing. Did you make this?"

He laughs, "No, not even I could do this. The founders built it into the castle. I just found it on some old floorplans and thought I would explore."

"Interesting. Do you think it's all transfiguration? As in, all of this is actually real and it just morphs to match the wishes of whoever is about to enter? It certainly makes the most sense, but the level of magic and detail involved… Or perhaps it is mind magic, just an elaborate illusion? How would that explain that you can see it too? Unless it somehow projects the vision into a space instead of into a person's head. Or these are real places and it's simply apparition across space to whatever room best fits your wishes? Then how did the founders know all the types of rooms they needed to create? Unless it takes you to whatever existing place in the world is the closest match, then the choices would be so vast they would be constantly expanding and almost infinite as far as it matters. Transfiguration seems most likely, but then I wonder what the original form of the room must look like, if there even is one."

She is saying all of this as she walks around, more to herself than to him he suspects. He sits on a bench, watching her while she continues until she finally gets tired and slips into the space next to him.

"What do you make it into?" she asks.

Tom does not expect this question. It's the first time she's ever asked him about himself in what feels like a serious way. A way where she actually wants to know the answer.

"Do you want me to show you?" he asks, standing up. She follows him out and he goes through the paces, walking in first this time. When she joins, she turns to him, an eyebrow raised, clearly about to snark something at him about the fact that he's lead her into a bedroom. "Calm down. It's not an innuendo. Sharing a dorm with four other teenage boys just gets a bit tiresome at times. Some weekends, it's nice to be able to go somewhere quiet and private to think and learn and practice magic."

She hums while looking around the room. There's an odd familiarity to it, which takes her a few seconds to place before she realizes what the layout reminds her of. It's Cain's room, only a bit different. Different decorations, different books on the shelves, a different feel overall, but still familiar.

"Have you ever been to the Rosier manor?" she asks, trying to sound nonchalant. She wonders if he even realizes. The fact that he shrugs before answering makes her think he doesn't.

"Once. Dippet gave permission for a Christmas visit during fourth year."

She laughs, "I haven't been back there for Christmas since starting school. Does his mother still put the Christmas tree on that ridiculous pedestal to make sure that all the gifts fit under it? I swear it would get taller every year."

"Yes. Kept my wand ready in case it tipped over, it was large enough to crush a person."

"It's no wonder. Druella got this dollhouse that was taller than her one year. I think she was four. It had its own room, for Merlin's sake. She played with it for hours every day for about a week before getting bored - which meant I was also stuck playing with it since she would start bawling every time I tried to leave. Honestly, if it had gone on any longer Cain probably would have broken it."

"Ah, so he's always been selfish about you," he answers, tone still playful. As if the sharp look in his eyes hasn't already betrayed him.

"Excuse me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You call him your best friend, but he's your only friend, Cass," he answers, not avoiding her stare. She's used to people backing down when she gives them this look or speaks to them in this tone. Not him, of course.

"Lestrange is also my friend."

"True, but Lestrange is more his friend than yours."

"That's a rude thing to say."

"It's a true thing to say."

"It's hard to - "

"No, it's not. At least not when you don't spend all your time with just one person."

"You criticize me for only having one friend when you have none. At least none that you would really consider your friend, even if they do consider themselves to be such. A bit hypocritical, isn't it, Tom?"

"I'm not criticizing you, I'm criticizing him."

"Well don't."

"My apologies for sullying your fantasy, Cassandra," he drawls sarcastically.

She glares at him, knowing what he is up to and already knowing it is best to stop it now. Technically, it would have been best if she'd never started it. She'd gotten too comfortable, apparently. Really, he isn't half bad when he's not making everything about him. She curses herself for even thinking that and forces her mind back on topic.

"You might not care about my relationship, but I do. And no matter what you try to convince me of through your little mind games, I will always care about Cain. I swear on my life that if you ever hurt him - in any way - yours won't last long," she says. She looks like she could do it. There is a steely look to her face, an unflinching quality to her eyes, and a composure to her frame which all scream out how much she means it as she threatens his life.

Hurt him? Never. More like rip his heart out. One day you are going to beg me to fuck you in front of him, little witch, and I will happily make you scream out that you're mine.

She pretends she hasn't heard that. She's not looking at him anymore and she knows from the cocky tone in his voice when he speaks again he thinks he has her convinced. That he doesn't realize what an open book he is to her. How can she help it, when his thoughts are so loud, so insistent, shoving their way into her head?

"Of course, Cassandra. I want to be your friend, remember? So why would I ever hurt one of your other friends?"

Well, what matters isn't what he thinks anyway. It's how he acts. So if he is willing to put on this act, she is willing to go along with it.

"Wonderful, Tom. So we can be friends then."

"Yes, friends. Good friends, I hope."

If you would just look at me you would know to run now, little witch.

He sees her head turn back and closes his mind. She meets his eyes and all there is behind them is a wall. A wall a hundred feet high, impossible to scale, and a smile like a wolf closing in on its prey. At least it is finally quiet.

A/N: As always, thanks for reading! I would so appreciate a review to hear any thoughts or reactions you have on the story :) In particular, is there any character you would like to see more POV from?