Author's Note: This is on the short side—the shortest chapter so far, I think. But there's a lot in it, in my opinion; I hope you'll find it that way as well and enjoy it.

[Soon to be revised slightly]

Over the break, the castle became more to Tom's liking, quieter and less overrun by people he had to speak politely to—people who didn't deserve his respect, but to whom he was obligated to show common courtesy for the sake of appearing like the rest of them; he was not like the rest of them, and that was the last thing he wanted to be. All his life he had known there was something special about him, and the day Dumbledore came and told him he was a wizard didn't change that. He was still special among this more elite portion of humanity. And now he knew why.

The Heir of Slytherin. He had proven it, found it in books; his grandfather's name, Marvolo, was shared by a member of the Gaunt family, descendants of Salazar Slytherin. He had always been able to talk to snakes, and, as Dumbledore had told him when he confessed this—he grimaced at this recollection, wishing he had not shared such a secret with this man, who had never been as easily fooled by his politeness and charm—the ability was unusual, but not unheard of. Naturally, Slytherin himself being a parselmouth, as Tom had learned it was called, those other cases were his progeny. The thought filled Tom with a sense of more importance than he had ever known. Legend said Slytherin, before his untimely departure, had created a place somewhere in the school, in which he may have even taught the dark arts to select, worthy students in his house, and later hidden a monster within. The other founders may have rejected his philosophies, showing their weakness, their inferiority to Slytherin, and ultimately forced him to leave the school, but he did not leave Hogwarts without a piece of his legacy. The Chamber of Secrets. Tom knew he would find it, find the monster inside it, and uncover what Slytherin had left behind to be carried out by his heir.

He was on his way downstairs, having told Charlotte he would see her off as she left to return to her home for the holiday. He would be pleased to see her gone; she occupied his time when he could be doing more productive things. Granted, she was a worthwhile project—his decision to pursue her coming from a myriad of ways she might prove useful to him. He reminded himself of this potential as he prepared himself to make the display of affection that would be required for her send off.

To his mind, love was a force that worked against him, and everyone else—only most everyone else gave in and let themselves be distracted. He alone saw what folly that emotion was, how it made you weak, held you back from greatness. Some would call his view selfish. Aside from the negative connotation, they were right. He was selfish, and love could have no place in a selfish soul. He had categorized love as a weakness at a young age. From then on, he had never had so much as a friend to think about. That was easy; there was nothing to gain from them—nothing involving emotional attachment. That was before the thought of being alone with a girl made him imagine all kinds of things. Now, with those thoughts in his mind, and a way to act on them, the line between loving and not loving might become blurred. It was a risk—but not one he felt truly threatened by.

Charlotte was on the steps that led out to the courtyard when he saw her. She stood apart from the other students, very still, except for her hair caught in the breeze; it seemed she was thinking very deeply about something. Tom wanted to know what it was. One day he would master legilimency, that was another ambition of his, but for now it was difficult, even with his great skill in magic. For now, Charlotte would serve as the best to practice on, an easy target. It was said that lovers knew each other's thoughts better than most, so who would be surprised if his ability to know what she was thinking closely resembled mind reading? He did have some concern that she would come to know too much about him, about his plans. But while she was an excellent student, certainly a bright witch, she could not be anywhere near as remarkable as him, and, furthermore, he would not hesitate to use his power to suppress any unwanted recollections she might obtain during their time together.

"I hope you have a good holiday," Tom said quietly, coming to stand beside Charlotte.

"Thank you." She looked at him and smiled. "And I hope you enjoy yours." He would indeed. Careful not to reveal the smirk beneath his smile, he grinned, although it felt unnatural. "I'm happy to stay at Hogwarts."

"I can tell. Valeria warned me to be considerate of how you might feel, staying here while so many of us leave and spend time with our families, but I told her just that—you're more than content to remain." It was more difficult to maintain a smile as he listened to Charlotte make inferred statements about his feelings, which he resented her having any extensive knowledge of. He dropped the pleasant expression altogether and, not wanting Charlotte to notice, leaned over to kiss her cheek. Then, turning her face towards his, he kissed her again on the lips. With closed eyes, she could see nothing of his unmasked face. It surprised him a little that he found this easier than tricking her with smiles. Kisses were, after all, a sign of affection, of love, which he did not feel towards her, nor anyone else. But a case like his was not uncommon, he supposed; kisses were not always shared out of love. Sometimes it was necessary in the pursuit of other things. However, for most people this alternate objective was sex, which was not his ultimate goal in this. And yet, last night at the Christmas party, when he had been dusting the snow off her shoulder and accidentally made her sleeve slip—clearly in that moment he had been thinking of something else, creating a distraction to his magic. He didn't like the thought that he was already being weakened by his relationship with Charlotte.

Like their previous kiss, this one was brief due to the public setting they were in. Unlike their previous kiss, this one was interrupted. It was Valeria.

"Hate to cut in, but I've just seen Professor Merrythought heading this way, and I figured, better me than her." Charlotte gave a sort of embarrassed laugh as she stepped back from Tom. Valeria pivoted in place gracefully and walked away from them. She stopped a short distance off, probably to remain within earshot, Tom thought disdainfully. He could have done without an over-interested friend hovering around his relationship. Although, he had to admit, without Valeria's encouraging influence on her friend, it was less likely that he would have been able to make Charlotte his girlfriend at all. Which reminded him...

"I heard you were telling people you didn't consider yourself my girlfriend," he said.

She didn't answer at first. "I didn't want to jump to conclusions," she eventually replied.

"And what do you think now?"

"I think there's something you want to ask me." She smiled.

No. Not really. He let out a resigned sigh, but laughed to make it seem like he was making a joke. "I want you to be my girlfriend, Charlotte. Will you say you will be?" Her face broke into a grin as she nodded.

Gradually, she was becoming enamored with him.

Author's Note: Here's hoping Riddle doesn't sound too cliché. It's challenging to write for a character who doesn't feel love, and trying to explain the rationale they have for that. I don't want him to sound like the typical villain-who-thinks-love-and-friendship-makes-you-weak (because I feel like that's a thing? Although I can't think of any examples right now).

Whatever musings and questions you have about Tom's inner thoughts, motivations, etc., drop them in a review and I'll see if I can address them in future chapters. :)