In early February, they had another visit to Hogsmeade. This time, Charlotte was prepared, with all her assignments already completed for the weekend.

"Is Riddle going?" Valeria asked her on the morning of.

"I don't know. Probably not. I don't think he cares for it."

"I know the two of you, being such an intellectual pair, spend a lot of time talking; didn't he mention it?"

"No, he didn't. And I would appreciate it if you didn't mock us."

"I wasn't," Valeria answered defiantly. "Only I've noticed that you aren't as physical with each other as one might expect. So I call you intellectual. It's not a bad thing." Charlotte made no reply. "Unless," Valeria started thoughtfully, "you want that to change, and that's why you became so agitated when I brought it up."

"Just because you don't see us kiss doesn't mean it never happens."

"Oh? Well, I don't need to know. I'm happy if you're happy," Valeria said, prancing towards the door out of their dormitory.

"Where are you off to? Aren't you going to wait for me?" Charlotte asked.

"Well that's why I was hoping you were going with Riddle, see. I've got a date. An appointment, I should say. But it could turn into a date. I'm meeting with our quidditch captain to discuss some uniform modifications for the team." She smiled brightly.

"That's great!" Charlotte replied sincerely, although she did wonder why Valeria had not told her about this.

"Yes, I'd gotten the feeling that he'd been wanting to speak with me, but it was only yesterday when he finally asked," she said inadvertently giving Charlotte an answer. "Do you think I'm intimidating?" she asked suddenly, barely pausing after her previous sentence.

"No, not really. That is, you're unique, and maybe some find that intimidating, but I don't think you should change." Charlotte smiled and Valeria flashed a sparkly grin back at her before darting out the door.

When Charlotte made her way out to the common room, she found Tom there. He greeted her with an embrace. "Are you going to Hogsmeade?" he asked, still holding her in his arms.

"Yes. By any chance are you?" she asked, hoping the answer was yes.

"I've decided I will. I want to spend time with you."

"That's good. I want to spend time with you, too." She smiled at him.

...

They went to Honeydukes first. Charlotte made her way through the crowd towards the glass counter that was filled with chocolates.

"What can I get for you?" asked the shop owner, a man not quite middle-aged with light colored hair and a cheerful disposition.

"I'm not sure yet, but my first question is do you still do gift parcels by delivery?"

"I'm afraid we don't at the moment, miss. However, we can gift wrap any purchases you make, then you can take things over to the Hogsmeade Post Office yourself."

"Ah, well, that makes sense," Charlotte answered. "Although I was intending to send some chocolate cauldrons to my father—they're one of his favorites—but with the firewhisky in them…"

"I see, that way you would be within the law and able to get your father the gift."

"Exactement." She laughed, "I mean exactly."

"Ahh," the man said, drawing the word out in understanding. "So you must be the French girl at Hogwarts, meaning your father is Monsieur Soleil, of the International Confederation of Wizards?"

Charlotte laughed cheerfully to disguise her cringe at his terrible pronunciation of monsieur. "Yes."

"Well," he said slowly, "I think we can make an exception just this once. But don't spread it around."

"Of course not." Charlotte smiled. "Merci."

"I'll just go wrap that up for you while you make up your mind about what else you want," the owner said, grabbing a box of chocolate cauldrons from a shelf behind him, and walking away. Charlotte nodded and immediately became engrossed in deciding what chocolate to get.

"I think I'll just go have a look around the rest of the shop," said Tom. Charlotte didn't hear him. In her defense, it was noisy in the shop and Tom generally spoke quietly. Not getting any response from her, he stepped closer and put his hand on her shoulder, leaning down towards her. She turned. "I'm going to look around while you take your time here," he repeated.

"Right." She smiled at him. Already so close, he quickly kissed her cheek before letting go of her and moving off into the crowd of other students. Charlotte looked back at the counter of chocolates, blinking quickly. "Now I've completely forgotten what I was going to get," she muttered, but couldn't hold back a smile as she touched her cheek where his lips had been.

Tom stepped towards another counter in the shop, this one with the owner's wife behind it. "Excuse me," he said. She looked up from the squares of treacle fudge she was weighing and smiled when she saw him. "I wonder if you can help me find something." He smiled back at her charmingly.

"I'm sure I can. What's your sweet tooth craving?"

"Actually it's not for me; I'm getting something for my girlfriend."

"Oh, how nice!" Mrs. Flume said, her manner towards him not changing. She wasn't flirty, but certainly found him attractive. This put him at ease; if she had become cold towards him after finding out he was already with someone, it would have made using his charm on her far too uncomfortable, especially with so many people around who might notice how they were behaving.

"She likes coconut," he said. In truth he had no idea if Charlotte liked coconut, but it didn't matter. Buying something for her was just a pretense.

"Well the exploding bonbons have coconut in them. But if you think she'd prefer something less extreme, then maybe the Pink Coconut Ice? And seeing as it's pink it would be excellent for Valentine's Day."

He smiled. "That's when I plan on giving it. You're a very good salesperson, very helpful. I'll take the coconut ice, then."

She beamed at his praise and raised her wand to summon a package of Pink Coconut Ice. She set it on the counter and pushed it towards him, but, as she did, she leaned it too and said, "You know I've just remembered, we're having a sale today for Hogwarts prefects." She pointed at his silver badge. "But it ends, uh, right now actually, so don't bother telling anyone else." He was quite certain there was no such sale. "So if there's something else you'd like, just say the word and it's yours free of charge."

This was very convenient. The interaction was going even better than he had anticipated. "Well…there is something, but… I don't know…"

"Anything you want," she reassured him gaily.

After further brief hesitation, he said, "Chocolate cauldrons." The idea had come to him when he heard Charlotte mention them. Firewhisky made one more daring and, although he did not need a boost in confidence for what he intended, it would help the situation if anything went wrong.

"Chocolate cauldrons, hmm?" She folded her arms, but was smiling. "Well I did say anything," she sighed. "But I really shouldn't."

"I understand," he said quickly. "I thought it couldn't do much harm to ask." He could see she was still considering it. And he knew just what to say to get what he wanted. "I've never tried one before, but I've heard others, whose parents don't mind the rules, talk about tasting them—"

"Well it's a little different when a parent decides they'll let their child have some firewhisky," she interjected.

"Of course," he said agreeably. "And the muggle-born children would, like me, not have ever tried it, having non-magical parents." He paused. Then added very quietly, seemingly to himself, but loud enough for her to hear, "Parents, something else I've never experienced having."

She let out a sympathetic little "Oh". He hated her pity, regretted this line of persuasion—the firewhisky was not even that essential—and resolved never to use his orphan status in this way again. But it got him the chocolate cauldrons. She wrapped the box up in gift paper, so no one would see what it was, and did the same for the coconut ice, since he had told her that was a gift.

He met Charlotte outside the shop and they decided to go to the Three Broomsticks. He hoped that maybe there he would have the chance to show her the chocolates and have some firewhisky. Inside the Three Broomsticks, Charlotte turned to him and said, "How about you grab us a table and I'll go get some butterbeer?"

"Sure," he answered. He looked around and, seeing the round table with the bench seat was unoccupied, went to sit down. Pulling out his wand, he unwrapped the chocolate cauldrons and placed them next to him, out of sight, on the bench. Charlotte gave him a somewhat confused look when she saw where he was sitting.

"Rather a lot of space for two," she said, coming up to the table, a butterbeer in each hand. She sat down beside him.

"No one was sitting here, so I don't see a problem with it. Besides, if I'm not mistaken, it's not uncommon for couples to sit here, so they can be close to each other." He reached for her hand, but, before taking it, changed his mind. Instead he put his arm around her waist and turned her towards him slightly. "And I have something I don't want anyone else to see." He leaned back to reveal the box of chocolate cauldrons, picking them up with his free hand.

"Did you get those just now? How?" Charlotte asked.

He gave a shrug. "I talked to Mrs. Flume."

"Lots of people talk to Mrs. Flume and don't come out of it with chocolate cauldrons. She fancies you. I saw. She's about twice your age, married, and she fancies you," Charlotte said with look of confusion tinged with disgust.

"Believe me, I'm just as—no, more disgusted than you are at that thought," he answered with honesty. Then, setting the box of chocolates in his lap, he held her waist with both hands, leaned towards her and said, "Rest assured, there's no reason for you to feel even the tiniest bit of envy for that woman." He pressed his lips to her forehead, which felt like a strange thing to do, but apparently showed affection. He let go of her waist and picked up the chocolates again. "Do you want one?"

Charlotte, sipping her butterbeer, looked at the cauldrons indecisively. "I don't really care for them, but maybe my tastes have changed…" While she pondered her decision, he took one out and, when no one was looking in their direction, downed the contents in one gulp. He could tell why "fire" was part of the name. It burned his throat, but left him with the feeling of confidence he had expected.

"Well?" questioned Charlotte amusedly.

"I don't know if I like it."

"Have some butterbeer." He did, and that helped, although it made the sweet beverage taste odd.

"Are you going to eat the chocolate?" asked Charlotte.

"Do you want it? Here." She took it and poured some butterbeer into it.

"I wish they made them like this," she said, raising it to her lips.

"I'm sure they must somewhere," he replied, taking another from the box. He began drinking this one more slowly, but, realizing he didn't want to prolong the burning sensation, ended up hurriedly tipping the rest into his mouth. The volume of firewhisky from two chocolate cauldrons now blazing through him, he felt Charlotte might overlook what he was about to say, if it turned out she strongly objected to it. Refilling the cauldron with butterbeer, he calmly said, "Valentine's Day is coming up."

"So it is," answered Charlotte, smiling. "Have you made any plans?"

He looked sideways at her, smiling too. "I may have come up with some arrangements for a special someone. Although it might involve breaking some rules," he replied, enjoying a double-meaning that only he understood. "I think I'll be going to sleep early, so that no one will think anything of it if they find my bed empty in the morning; they'll assume I got up early." Charlotte turned her face away from him, probably trying to hide the color that rushed into her cheeks as she perceived his meaning.

"And where in the castle can one be so as to stay out all night and not be caught?" she inquired, following his lead. So far the firewhisky seemed to have been an unnecessary precaution.

"Hogwarts is full of secrets," he answered. "Believe it or not there's a room well-suited for just such a purpose." He leaned very close to her, watching her reaction. "We can go there, if you want, on that night." She was studying his face too, but a smile was playing at her lips and he was quite sure he saw excitement in her eyes.

"Would you be saying this if you hadn't just had all that firewhisky?"

"Probably not." In fact that was false; he had planned to say these exact words, and the firewhisky had only come along as a convenient scapegoat on which to pin the blame for his forwardness. He continued, "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have wanted to."

She leaned back against the bench; he kept his eyes on her face, trying to read her response there. He wanted to know for certain, but he added the final piece of his speech. "Of course, there's no reason for you to decide now. Think it over. There's a whole week before then. The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured; only say yes if you're entirely comfortable with it." The irony of this was that it was intended to pressure her into agreement, although there was truth in that he didn't want her to feel pressured.

She nodded, then slowly said, "I'll think about it." There it was—the illusion of a choice. She would think about it, and he would make sure her final answer was yes; he fully intended to sleep with her the night of Valentine's Day.

Author's Note: Chocolate cauldrons, treacle fudge, exploding bonbons, and Pink Coconut Ice are all "real" candies sold at Honeydukes. Mr. and Mrs. Flume are the owners in Harry's time, but going by their age then, and how long wizards seem to live, I decided it was likely they were there fifty years previously too.

If you're thinking this whole Valentine's Day scheme seems possibly out of character for Tom, I assure you, there's a reason for it (see next chapter). That said, if you have any questions about anything that doesn't make sense to you, ask away; it'll help me improve the story, too.