A/N: This chapter has been rewritten as of 25/08/2019.

❦ Chapter 1: Longing in the Library ❦

The Hogwarts library hummed with the quiet murmurs and scratching quills of students. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike were absorbed in ancient tomes and textbooks, studying for tomorrow's midterm OWL examinations. A lively, sleep-deprived gaggle of Gryffindors laughed as they read aloud from an outdated Herbology textbook, taking turns concocting funny - and often inappropriate - methods of remembering the names of magical flora. A young couple, bored of studying, were engaged in a violent game of tonsil tennis in a dark corner of the library. A solitary Slytherin girl sat at an empty table, swinging her legs and pursing her lips in concentration. A pile of parchment and a large Potions textbook sat before her.

Delores J. Umbridge, she had written in the top, leftmost corner of the parchment. Potions Notes. The title was underlined with an elaborate swirl. Despite its label, the parchment bore less notes than doodles. Drawings of flowers, hearts, and cats covered every square inch of the page.

A pink-feathered quill sat poised in her hand, but Delores wasn't using it to write, rather to carefully follow each sentence as she reread her notes.

"Felix Felicis," Delores read, lips moving imperceptibly as she committed the words to memory. "Liquid luck. A most difficult potion to brew."

I could use some liquid luck right about now, she thought gloomily, reaching up with her free hand to rub her tired eyes. She could hardly hear herself think over the joking, raucous Gryffindors several tables away. She spared a withering glare towards the rowdy group. It's the only way I'm gonna pass this Potions OWL tomorrow.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as she watched the Gryffindors interact. Even though they didn't look like they were getting much studying done, they were certainly having a good time.

Delores wished, not for the first time, that she had someone to study with who wasn't her useless cat. She looked away from her fellow students to watch Mr. Cuddlesworth, deep in slumber, with his white tail curled over his nose.

"You're useless," she murmured fondly as she reached forward to stroke Mr. Cuddlesworth's head with the soft, feathered tip of her quill. He shifted in his sleep, but showed no signs of waking. Delores considered Mr. Cuddlesworth to be her best friend. He had always been there for her, through thick and thin. Whenever she cried, which was often, he licked her tears and let her touch his toe beans. He allowed her to bury her face in his fur when she was frustrated, and tie pink ribbons around his neck when she was sad. Besides for her roommate, Ebony, Mr. Cuddlesworth was Delores's only friend.

"So much for helping me study," she grumbled, more loudly than she had intended. Two Gryffindors glanced critically in Delores's direction, setting her face ablaze with embarrassment. She turned her head and hid behind her brown hair until she no longer felt their stares boring into her.

Delores was used to being the social outcast, the weird girl who talked to her cat and still loved the colour pink at seventeen years old, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to be ostracised and judged for what she liked. She wasn't clever enough to spend time with the nerdy students, nor was she fashionable enough to join in the popular girls' fun. She wasn't a Pureblood, a class clown, or an artist. Delores didn't belong anywhere, not even with the other social caterpillars at Hogwarts. Her roommate, Ebony, was her only human friend, and she wasn't even a human. She was a vampire. Her supernatural race enabled her to understand Delores's plight of feeling different.

Feeling different, Delores had decided long ago, sucked. Seven years at Hogwarts, and she hadn't yet found a place she belonged. She was hopeless at making friends, she was hopeless at socialising, and she was hopeless at studying. She was hopeless at everything.

Everything except being hopeless, she supposed. Delores smiled reproachfully, bashfully returning to her work. She read silently this time, so as not to attract further attention from the Gryffindors.

Polyjuice Potion. A complex and time-consuming concoction. Enables the consumer to assume the physical appearance of another person, as long as they have first procured part of that individual's body to add to the brew, eg. hair, dandruff, etc.

Delores's mind was already drifting. Her index finger idly traced a large heart she had drawn in the top right corner of her notes. The heart had two initials set inside of it, a D and a T. She blushed fiercely, following the lines of the letters within the heart. The 'D' stood for Delores, of course, and the 'T' stood for Tom, her crush.

Tom Riddle was the most popular, smart, and attractive boy at Hogwarts. The Slytherin prefect was tall, dark-haired, and achingly handsome. A small cohort of fellow Slytherin boys followed him around wherever he went, protecting Tom from the large group of infatuated girls who constantly flocked and badgered him. Tom was everything Delores was not, and yet she wanted him. She yearned for his love and affection with a ferocity which scared her, but he would never fall for a girl like her, with drab robes, a chubby face, and plain brown hair and eyes. She was nothing like the slender beauties vying for Tom's attention and hanging off his arms.

And yet, Delores felt a degree of satisfaction, it was she, plain, crazy, pink-obsessed Delores Umbridge, who had been chosen as Tom's Potions partner that fateful Autumn day. It was mid-November, and the class had been dedicated to completing the Polyjuice Potions they had begun brewing a month prior. Her previous lab partner, Patricia Parkinson, had been ill with the flu. Delores had looked frantically about the dank dungeon, searching for anyone without a partner. That's when the Slytherin posterchild himself, Tom Riddle, approached her, his perfect, luscious lips spread in a dazzling smile.

"My partner isn't here today," Tom said, and Delores's cheeks burned. "Let's work together."

Her tongue felt thick and clumsy in her mouth, and she could only squeak in reply. "O-okay!"

He towered over her, six feet tall and stunning, like a gallant prince from a fairy tale. His voice turned her bones to jelly, and his smile set her heart a'stutter. As they brewed, side by side, Delores could feel the angry, jealous stares of her female classmates piercing the back of her skull.

Delores held their shared textbook aloft for Tom to see. He scanned the brewing steps, and if he noticed the textbook shaking due to Delores's trembling hands, he didn't say anything about it. "The final step is to add the hair, or whatever."

Delores watched in shock as he plucked a hair from his head. "You can put it in," he said casually, gesturing for her to take the hair.

Delores scrambled to set down the Potions textbook. She held out her hand, and Tom placed the dark strand of hair in the centre of her palm. She felt a jolt of lightning race through her as his fingers brushed her skin. In the back of her mind, she wondered faintly if he could feel the sweat gathered on the surface of her skin.

"Th-thanks," she stuttered. Tom turned away, and Delores dared to look at the hair she held - Tom's hair.

Her heart rose into her throat, choking her. Her feet were rooted to the ground. There were two hairs in the centre of her palm, side by side. Two hairs. Two of Tom's hairs. Delores quickly glanced up at Tom, who was busy closing ingredient jars and tidying their station.

Delores held her breath as she carefully picked up one of Tom's hairs and stuffed it into her robe pocket. Just as she was removing her hand from her pocket, Tom turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. "Go ahead. You can put it in, now."

Delores didn't trust herself to speak. He didn't see, she thought as she picked up the leftover hair and dropped it into the nearly-completed potion. Oh my gosh. I can't believe I just did that. That was so stupid. So, so stupid. Why did I even do that?! Her mind raced through potential scenarios - her teacher finding out, and failing her. Her classmates finding out, and never letting her hear the end of it. Tom finding out, and being disgusted with her.

But nothing happened. Her teacher passed their station and afforded Tom and Delores a pleased nod towards their completed potion. Her classmates continued to brew their own potions, oblivious to Delores's act of obsessive thievery. Tom smiled widely at her and raised a hand. Delores blinked. He was waiting for her to high-five him. Delores hurried to oblige him. "Nice work," he said, and Delores felt herself melting in between the stones of the dungeon floor, a blissful, oozing mess. Tom Riddle high-fived her.

"Let's work together again sometime, Delores," said Tom. He knew her name! And not only that, he wanted to work with her again. Delores had spent the rest of that day walking on cloud nine, barely able to conceal the skip in her step. Not even her emo roommate, Ebony, could bring her back down to earth.

A loud giggle from the Canoodling Corner startled Delores out of her reverie. She sighed, willing the information to leap into her head. She was useless at remembering things that actually mattered. If she could remember her encounter with Tom so vividly, why couldn't she remember even the tiniest bit of information about Potions? Thoroughly frustrated, Delores rolled up her parchment and slammed her Potions textbook shut. She allowed herself to slouch, sinking low into her seat and letting loose a loud sigh. Mr. Cuddlesworth opened one eye a sliver.

"Sorry for waking you up," she muttered apologetically, watching Mr. Cuddlesworth reposition his furry body and close his eyes once more. She looked away from her cat, taking in the library. The Gryffindors were packing up their quills and parchment, leaving the textbooks askew on the table for the House Elves to clean up. After they left the room, Delores pushed back her chair and walked towards the abandoned table. She picked up the forgotten books and shelved them one by one, rationalising her procrastination by assuring herself that she was doing the House Elves a favour.

Eventually, the couple in the corner of the library ceased making out. They too left the library, leaving Delores alone with her cat and her thoughts. She reached inside her robe pocket and withdrew Tom's hair, stark against her pale skin. She carried it in her pocket every day. It gave her hope. Delores returned to her table to admire Tom's hair in the light of her stubby candle. She fought the urge to bring it up to her nose and sniff it, to see if it smelled like Tom's shampoo or cologne. She wanted to know what he smelled like more than anything. She envisioned herself sitting with him in the library, cuddled close together on a sofa with his head resting on her shoulder. Her fingers gently carded through his hair, revelling in its softness, its thickness, and its sweet scent.

Delores sighed, shoving the hair back inside her pocket. After returning the Potions textbook to its proper shelf, she gathered up her cat and writing supplies and returned to her dorm room. Inside, it was dark as the grave.

Delores fished her wand out of her pocket. "Lumos," she breathed. A small light burst into existence at the tip of her wand, shining just brightly enough for her to see where she was going in the dark room.

Tiptoeing so as not to wake her roommate and utilising her wand for navigation, she approached her bed and knelt beside it. She reached for a small wooden box, painted a bright pink colour. The box held her jewellery: a pair of pink pearl earrings and a necklace. Delores placed Tom's hair on the pink cushion inside of the box, as precious a treasure as any diamond. She closed the box tight and changed into her favourite pink pyjamas, climbing into bed. Mr. Cuddlesworth settled on her stomach, purring like a small, furry motor. Sleep took her, and her dreams were filled with Tom Riddle and the love she so desperately wished for.