Author's Note: The entire scene at the end of this chapter is getting taken out, possibly moved, but most likely deleted. As soon as I've written some new, more useful, content to take up the space.

Charlotte was on her way from Potions to Defense Against the Dark Arts when she almost ran into someone who was emerging from another classroom. She recognized it to be the Gryffindor boy from the party.

"Oh, hello there," he said with a smile.

"Hello," she answered, glancing inside the classroom. Gathering that the lesson that had just ended was for NEWT level students, she said, "Are you… a sixth year?"

"Seventh, actually." He paused. "Wishing you had said yes to dancing with me now?" he asked with a laugh. Charlotte snorted and moved to step around him, but he caught her arm. "I'm sorry. That was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it." He let go of her arm. "Really I just wanted to talk to you because we have something in common."

"What's that?"

"My mother is part of the International Confederation of Wizards, just like your father."

"Oh? What's your name, and her name? Maybe my father has mentioned her."

"Amelia Winship is her name. And I'm Oliver. It's nice to meet you properly, Charlotte." They shook hands.

"That name does sound familiar, but I can't think of any instances… no matter though; it's nice to meet you." She smiled.

"I'm headed to Charms now. If you're going the same way maybe we can walk together and keep talking?" he asked.

"I'd like that. Although, it won't be a very long walk; I'm only going up one more floor." They started down the hall and Charlotte, trying to think of something to say, asked, "So is your mother headed to America soon too? For the gathering that MACUSA is holding?"

"Yes. Another one of the American initiatives to stop Grindelwald… Can you believe how long this has gone on?"

"I don't think I can fully understand how long the wizarding world has had to deal with the threat he poses. My whole life, as long as I can remember, there's been Grindelwald. Grindelwald and his fanatics. Grindelwald and his wizarding supremacy ideals. Grindelwald and his 'Greater Good'. It almost… makes it hard to imagine what the world would be like if things were different."

There was a difference in this conversation and just about every other one she had had about Grindelwald, in the last six years especially. She was relatively calm. Trying to figure out why, because it felt like some kind of breakthrough for her, she realized that Oliver's words hadn't been steeped in fear, as most were when they were about Grindelwald.

"One day there won't be any need to imagine it, a world without Grindelwald. We'll beat him. Here's hoping it's sooner rather than later." So much confidence.

Something about the way he spoke made her ask, "Do you want to be an auror when you graduate?"

"I—yes. How did you know?"

She laughed, a bit surprised. "Do you really? It just seemed that you felt strongly about fighting the forces of darkness," she answered, adding drama to the phrase. He chuckled. "Lucky guess mainly," she said.

When they arrived at Charlotte's next class, Oliver stepped into the room with her to say goodbye. "It was nice talking to you," he said. "Hopefully this won't be the only time we speak."

"I doubt it will be," she replied, smiling.

"I'll see you around," they said at almost the same time, then laughed. She went to her place in the classroom and he went on to Charms. Tom was already seated in the room and had been watching them curiously, but intermittently overwhelming the curiosity was an obvious displeasure at this interaction. As Charlotte came towards him he looked down quickly, the curiosity now fully displaced by the displeasure. Seeing his furrowed brow, she asked, "Is something wrong?" thinking that surely this couldn't be a reaction to her conversation with Oliver.

"No, it's fine," he answered without looking at her.

"If that's your 'I'm fine' face then you must look really out of sorts when you're angry."

He let her see him laugh, but did not reveal to her eyes the troubled look that followed it. After a moment he turned back to her and quietly said, "I appreciate your concern, Charlotte, but I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Okay." She was satisfied by this response; at least he had admitted something was bothering him.

The next day was Saturday and there was a quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Tom had no interest in the sport, so he had stayed in the common room, which was nearly empty, with everyone else filling the stands around the quidditch pitch. Being among that crowd might have helped him to appear normal, not unsociable, which could raise further suspicion in the event that anyone began to see through his well-mannered, nearly perfect guise—although that was unlikely to ever happen—and he might have gone with Charlotte, but she herself did not typically attend the matches, only this time making an exception because Valeria was going; needless to say, he did not feel the need to subject himself to spending time with Charlotte and Valeria.

After a while, he decided to go to the library, anticipating that the match would soon be over and the return of his Slytherin peers would make the common room a less favorable environment. As he made his way upstairs, he discovered that the match had been a quick one and was already over. Judging by the chants he could hear, growing louder as they progressed towards the school, his own house had been the victors. He was pleased his house had proven itself superior, even if the matter was something as frivolous as a sport.

Before he could make it to the library, however, he was sidetracked by the unexpected crossing of paths with Charlotte… and an older looking Gryffindor boy, the same one who had yesterday accompanied her to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Immediately his heart jumped and his pulse climbed to an uncomfortable rate. His face felt flushed and he hung back for a moment, not wanting to be seen in that state. He glanced back at them again, walking towards him, and a lesser wave of the combination of sensations came over him. Now that his hands were no longer shaking, he stepped towards the two, who were engaged in cheerful conversation.

"I thought you were going to see the match with Valeria?" was the first thing he said to Charlotte.

"I did. But, since we won, she went to go congratulate Winky on leading his team to victory and I made my way back on my own. Then I ran into Oliver. Have you two met before?"

"No, but I know that this is Tom Riddle. I'm Oliver Winship," said Oliver, offering his hand. Tom took it and shook it firmly, giving the Gryffindor boy a hard stare.

"How did you meet my girlfriend, Oliver?" he asked without thinking. What was he saying? He hardly ever referred to Charlotte as his girlfriend.

"By chance really. But our parents sometimes work together with the International Confederation of Wizards, so we've been chatting and sharing similar experiences we've had."

Tom nodded, but couldn't think of what to say. After his previous ill thought out inquiry, he was reluctant to speak again. Charlotte, who was probably feeling the tension between them, put an end to the conversation.

"Well, it was nice having the chance to talk to you again, Oliver. I'll see you… sometime," she said.

"Likewise," he answered, and, much to Tom's relief, turned to leave.

Charlotte took hold of Tom's arm and headed towards the Slytherin Dungeon. She found an empty classroom along the way and they stopped there. "Someone's jealous," she said once the door was closed behind them.

"What?" Is that what he had been feeling? It seemed to fit, but could he really be feeling so strongly about Charlotte?

"You were obviously jealous of Oliver. It's a little surprising. I think that usually jealousy is found in people who are afraid of being replaced, who feel inferior in some way. I wouldn't think that you would have any cause to feel inferior." Now he really hated the emotion, but his ego liked how Charlotte spoke to him in this instance.

He put his hands on her. "I guess I just want you all to myself…" he said, leaning in to kiss her. She didn't let him, putting her fingers in front of his lips to block his way.

"I guess I just want you to never talk to anyone else, is more accurate," she said. He didn't think she was actually angry; there was a laugh in the way she spoke.

"No, you can spend time with whomever you wish. As long as they're not male." He joked in turn.

"Very funny." She draped one arm over his shoulder and looked in his eyes. "You don't really think that. I mean, you wouldn't actually ask me to stop interacting with boys aside from you."

"No, I wouldn't. Of course not." Only because he knew it would be ridiculous to ask that of her, she wouldn't do it, and would probably break up with him. But, not knowing this, she smiled and kissed him. Then there was a soft "I love you".

He hesitated; he wanted this phrase to be said on his own terms, when he knew he was capable of expressing it convincingly, but at this time he surprised himself with the seeming sincerity that came across when he said "I love you too".

A few days after this, they were sitting in the common room by the fire, alone, everyone else having gone to bed. They weren't saying anything to each other; Tom was staring ahead into the flames, deep in thought it seemed, and Charlotte had her head against his shoulder, relaxing with half-closed eyes. His left hand already resting above her knee, he crossed his other arm over his body to stroke her hair, which ended in him lifting her face, her lips to his. That kiss was followed by another kiss, and another, and quite soon they were lying on the sofa together in a way that would have looked incriminating were anyone to see them.

And it did. Talia Thisledown, sixth year prefect, came into the room after finishing her curfew rounds. She walked right over to them. "Ahem." She cleared her throat. Tom leaned away from Charlotte, who was pushing herself into a seated position, and tried to look mostly unashamed. "Just because everyone's asleep doesn't mean you can do whatever you like in here," Talia said, arms folded.

"We just got carried away," Charlotte replied hurriedly.

"I wouldn't say that," Tom disagreed. "We knew exactly what we were doing, and what we weren't doing. Besides, we're being discrete. If you ever see us setting a bad example for other students, I welcome you to deduct house points."

Talia pursed her lips. "I'll do that." She headed for the girls' dormitory, then turned around to say, "And I'd tell you to stop now, but I'm not going to stick around and watch to see if you obey, so… just don't let me catch you again." She disappeared down the passageway.

"I should have known that some prefect would be coming back in late," Tom said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"We didn't actually get in trouble though, and that's your doing, so there's no need to apologize really." They sat in silence for a moment before she added musingly, "I forget you're a prefect most of the time."

"Often when I'm with you I suppose I don't act much like a prefect ought to, so that's understandable."

"It's because… I guess I don't think of you as Tom Riddle, the prefect, anymore, or Tom Riddle, Professor Slughorn's favorite student; I just think of you as Tom Riddle, my boyfriend."

Riddle was staring at her contemplatively with a vague smile. "You know, there's another name I sometimes use," he said, moving closer. "You can call me by it, but only when we're alone."

"Yes?"

"Voldemort." He said the name with force, with power behind it. It was no pet name she was being given to use.

"Vole de mort?" she repeated in a French accent, questioningly. "Flies from death? Or steals from death."

He smiled. "It's made from letters in my name. But you can think of it that way if you want."

"Voldemort," she said again the same way, only in an almost-whisper. She smiled, and kissed him.

Author's Note: Out of everything so far, I think that this last scene is the most uncomfortable; there's no ignoring the fact that this is Lord Voldemort. After I wrote it and reread it I just thought, cringing, "No Charlotte. Don't." Voilà, the tragedy.

As for the French translations of his name, ever since I learned French I've always been curious whether that was intentional, as it seems to fit very well.

Stay tuned for more of Tom's jealousy and how he deals with it, plus the arrival of Charlotte's mother~