Jukebox Plays- the same as the last few chapters!

Chapter 6

The Head's dorms were unlike any other in the school. Gone was the need for space for a dozen beds, a dozen dressers, a dozen people. In it's place were smaller alcoves with room for one person to live quite comfortably. A large four poster bed stood just off the centre of the room, a set of drawers pushed up against the far wall. A desk sat beneath the deep set window that started at waist height, and ended up near the beams of the ceiling. A small living room was down a short flight of stairs, to be shared by both of the Heads. Most years, it also became the space that was used for the prefects meetings.

But the biggest difference between the Head dorms and the standard ones were the colors. Gryffindor was a riot of scarlet and gold, bold in their hot headed bravery. Ravenclaw was subdued, a studius blend of blue and bronze. Hufflepuff was filled with warm and homely golds and tan brown. The Slytherin dorms were chill and aloof, the cold silver and dark greens covering every available surface. The Head dorms however were styled in the taste of the person living in them- a long practiced effort to promote fairness. Distancing the teenagers from favoring one house overall. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.

Tom Riddle liked green. Not because it was the primary color of his house and heritage, but because it was a pleasant color. It was the color of evergreens and mint, the beech leaves on the tree in the corner of the Orphanage yard. Dark it was protection, a hidden place for him to be alone with his thoughts. Light, it was fresh and renewing, like the tiniest new buds of spring. He didn't wax poetic on the subject, nor did he spent the effort to really analyze why- Tom liked the color green, and there was no reason to dissect it any further.

But even the comfortable calmness that was his room, was not up to the task of blocking out the incredibly loud music that the Head Girl was currently playing in their Common Room. Had it been in her own dorm, then he could have blocked it out with a simple silencing spell- but alas, the Founders in their great wisdom had decided that the adjoining room could not be blocked out; in case of emergency.

The upbeat, Big Band tunes of the Glenn Miller Orchestra had been almost tolerable at first. The second time the strains of "Pennsylvania 6-5000" echoed up the stairs, and slipped beneath the door, Tom took note of the slow building headache inching through his brain. The third, and he knew he had to get out of there.

Traitor.. Libya hissed at him, as he carefully laid her back in the habitat he had transfigued for her on his first day. It had everything she could possibly want- except for a reprieve from the awful clanging noise that human's called music. Slithering over to a large, flat rock, Libya coiled herself up into a tight spiral; flickering her tongue out at Tom for good measure. An unapolagetic shrug was all she received for her trouble, as Tom checked his wand tucked up his left sleeve, and ducked out the door.

It was still a few hours until the older years curfew, and the halls were filled with students milling around. Greeting eachother, and yelling hellos from down the corridors, new couples whispering sweet nothings to eachother in voices so low only they could hear. Tom moved through it all, the busy crush of youths parting in front of him; more then one story had made it's way around the school of his volatile temper. No matter that those rumors hadn't been true for years… Tom hadn't lost his chilly calm for quite some time. Nobody was entirely sure why, only that it had been sometime during the summer between his 4th and 5th year.

The Library had seemed like the obvious choice, but tonight when he so desired peace and quiet, it had been overtaken with Slytherins. Malfoy and Black and Lestrange gathered close at one of the round tables, their doting admirers clustered around, giggling and hanging off their every word. No, what he needed was silence, and having those baboons start a quarrell with him would be the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

He just didn't have the stomach for the usual taunts of 'Tainted,' 'Unworthy'. 'Disgusting,' and whatever the nickname for this year would be. The fact that he had been labelled head Boy may dissuade them for a time, but Tom knew well enough that it wouldn't last forever. They fed off of making his schooldays a misery, a delight that he had hoped would wane when he stopped rising to their jibes. It was one of the few time in his life that he would truly admit to being very, very wrong.

One day though, he would make them all kneel before him. It was his most cherished dream, had kept him strong in the back of his mind since his first year. Of a time when he would rise over them all, terrible and grand and show them that their blood purity was nothing but ashes in the face of the great lineage of Salazar Slytherin. One day, when the memory of the boy they had taunted was long erased and buried. And he would be something powerful, and more then they could ever hope to be.

And things would be better then, for everyone.

His feet carried him through the laughter of the students, his thoughts a million miles away from his own body. Snapped back to reality that he had left the bustle and the noise, and the hallways around him were quiet. The large double doors of the Infirmary stood ajar, and even Tom was aware of the irony that this is where he would find himself. Still, it would be quiet. And with that in mind, he slipped silently through the crack in the door.

There was a distinct feeling of déjà vu as he made his way across the floor. Like the entire scene had been pulled out of his memories and made flesh and stone in front of his eyes. The sun was setting, the shadows that trekked across the walls were the color of ripe plums, limned in dusky golden light. The curtains at the end of the hall stood still as sentries, a clear warning of Do Not Pass.

Tom had never been very good at listening to rules he felt didn't apply to him. The pink hues of sunset ghosted over the delicate cheekbones of the girl who lay there- imitation life, counterfeit health. She was as still as ever, three days and she never changed. Not a smile or anything to mark the passing of time to her.

A chair though, had been added to her beside. It was empty, seemingly placed there for no logical reason. Tom looked at the chair for a long moment, as it trying to fathom what it could possibly be doing there, in this space. As though it were an interloper in this scene, out of place. But, seeing that it didn't jump up, or do anything remotely interesting, Tom decided that it would be foolish indeed to stand there at the juncture of the screens, and sat down.

In the fading light, he could make out the fine tracework of blue veins beneath her pale skin. The gentle, barely perceptible rise and fall of each breath leaving and entering her body. That alone was something, a movement as small as it was.

As long as she didn't stop, then he knew she would be alright. And it was such a small thing, but Tom refused to allow himself to dwell on the fact that he, inexplicably, wanted her to live. That silently in his mind, he acknowledged that he wanted to know who she was- what she was doing here. She was the riddle that even he couldn't begin to fathom the answer to- and he wouldn't waste his time on pointless theories.

What mattered was that she was here, and as long as she was breathing, then there might yet be hope. He blinked sharply, eyelids slashing quickly over grey eyes. Grey eyes that, should a person be looking very, very closely, weren't entirely the color of ash. Deep in them, dwelled the tinyest flicker of color. Green or blue, like a light beneath a fathomlessly endless ocean.

Hope.

As rare to him as anything he had ever felt, faint as it was. Like a fine, anemic butterfly that was trying to escape from his ribcage. Tom swallowed hard, pushing himself up from the chair sharply. He didn't need this, it was pathetic. The childish desires of someone who didn't already have their life mapped out. He would be great, he could be everything he had ever dreamed of and more! And to do that, he did not need her.

Turning, he left the Infirmary without ever having said a word.

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Thanks again to everyone who took the time to review, they really are the reason I update as fast as I do nudge nudge

Special thanks to Dri Almighty and Nerys though, for their incredibly wonderful reviews that I am quickly becoming addicted to! hands out cookies

Ans for those of you who are waiting for Hermione to wake up, try to be patient! She won't be like this forever.