By early afternoon that very same day, Professor Runewood was already revived, thanks to Madame Soleil's potion. Tom was frustrated. What were the odds that both attacks would be thwarted by circumstance? A middle of the night pipe breakage had turned the corridor floor into a reflective, basilisk defense. Miraculously, however—or perhaps there was some kind of magic at work—she did not recall what had caused her petrification, the last thing she had seen as she walked down the hall.

The more pieces of the truth the rest of the school became aware of, the more difficult Tom knew it would be for him to remain calm and act like he had nothing to do with these events. He hated that he had to act so discreetly, always fearing the suspicion of others. Those who would disagree with his method and his motive had too much authority; he needed more power.

He wondered if there was anything he could do to prevent the Restorative Draught from being administered to the victims of the basilisk. If he had acted sooner, he might have been able to taint the potion with something, in which case Madame Soleil might be blamed—he was uncertain of whether or not that would end well, but it seemed like a worthwhile risk to take. However, at this point it didn't matter because Professor Runewood had already been treated. But recalling Madame Soleil had given him an idea. Her willingness to take risks with experimentation where a muggle-born was concerned could be used to incite hesitation in giving the potion to anyone else. He just had to figure out a way to alert the staff to this fact…

...

"I have to say, this time you do look tired," Tom said. "But that can't be helped. You can't expect anything else after staying up all night."

"Mmmm," Charlotte answered nondescriptly.

"Talking with you then has given me a lot to think about." She could take that however she wanted. The important thing was 'talking', they had been talking; he didn't want her to misremember that, and instead think that he had left for some time, during which she had fallen asleep.

"Is that so?" she asked, the sleepiness in her voice fading slightly as she sat up.

If people knew what an actor Tom was, he certainly could have been cast in one of Professor Beery's theatrical endeavors. "About the future," he said with a smile. Again, she could believe whatever she wanted about this statement.

"About us?"

Through a great effort, he managed not to let his smile falter. She could have understood him to be speaking about future careers, the future of the wizarding world—but she had to go with them. There was no them, least of all in the future. But she couldn't know that. Not yet. He assumed that someday he would be able to cast aside all of the lies and force her to see him for what he truly was. She would hate it; it would cause her pain. The thought of this made an excitement surged through him. And also… something else. Something negative. A loss? His mind raced for an answer, a conclusion that made sense to him. "I always think about us," he said in the meantime.

He decided it must be his disappointment that Charlotte would certainly not see the value in his actions. She would be so preoccupied with her own suffering and her anger at him that she would fail to see the greatness standing before her. But if he could cause her all these unpleasant feelings, then clearly he had power over her, which was all he wanted. He suppressed any other explanation for the feeling he was having. And yet it was a hollowed out place that would ache with emptiness as its chance for fulfillment was thrown away.

"We still have two years of school left, but sometimes I wish it was less, so we could be nearer to maybe starting our lives together."

The more successfully he enchanted her, the more repulsed he was by her. Once again, a paradox. He quickly kissed her on the cheek because he could not fake a convincing smile at this point. "I want that too," he lied. Their hands were now clasped together and Charlotte, with her other hand, was reaching for the book again. Tom summoned it to him instead, and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to sleep?" He set the book down on the other side of him, away from Charlotte.

"I really have to study," she insisted without much energy.

"Study what?"

"Divination."

"Well I can see that, but what specifically? What've you learned?" He smirked.

"I don't know—that's why I need to study," she replied as forcefully as she could.

"That's why you need to sleep. Otherwise you'll have to read it again anyway."

Charlotte looked at him. "Maybe… If I can make it just a short nap."

"You can stay right here and read as soon as you wake up." He motioned to his arm, outstretched across the top of the couch cushions.

As the weight on his shoulder set in, so did the realization that he had no idea why he had made this request of her. What advantage did he have to gain by it? He considered getting up and leaving, telling her he had forgotten something he had to do. But he was tired too…

...

"I don't think you were supposed to fall asleep as well," Charlotte said, nudging Tom awake.

"Don't forget, I was awake all night too."

"Yes, but… We don't want anyone else working that out, do we?" She smiled.

Tom shrugged. "What are they going to do?"

"Tell everyone you two are the most adorable couple in the whole school."

"Valeria! Where did you come from? I had no idea you were there!" Charlotte twisted around in surprise to look at her friend. Tom felt himself flush, not out of embarrassment, but rather out of anger.

"That'll be because of my shoes, enchanted to not make any noise. I'm just testing them out," she replied happily. Then her attention was caught by Tom. "Oh look, Charlotte, he's blushing," she giggled. Charlotte looked at him and smiled. This only exacerbated his bitter resentment.

His hand was clenched into a fist out of sight at his side. "I'm certain shoes like that already exist, Valeria," he said, ignoring what she said as best he could.

"Yes, but it's helpful for me to practice making them myself."

"Like artists copying the work of the masters in order to study," Charlotte said.

"Exactly!" agreed Valeria.

"I didn't know you had any interest in art," Tom said to Charlotte.

"I am. And more so since I found out about a group of wizards who have banded together to try to protect muggle artwork." She said "muggle" in a questioning way, showing confusion about why wizards would go out of their way to do this for them, as Tom interpreted it.

"Good for them," said Valeria. "I think muggle artwork can be just as valuable as wizard artwork. Art isn't like technology or other things that magic can objectively improve. We can still appreciate muggle art, don't you agree?"

"We have some muggle paintings in our house actually," answered Charlotte. "In my father's study there are two small ones. My mother doesn't understand why he, or any wizard, would want paintings done by muggles, but she's given up complaining about it, so long as he keeps them where she doesn't have to see them much."

"I think she's right," said Tom. "I would much prefer a wizard's artwork to decorate the walls of my home."

"Well I can see the appeal of non-magical paintings," Valeria said. "Pictures that can hear you and talk to each other are rather creepy sometimes." Tom had to agree with her on this point. He had certainly encountered difficulties because of the inhabitants of frames around Hogwarts; it made going unnoticed and doing illicit things much more of a challenge.

"That makes sense," Charlotte laughed. "But they can be very useful too."

"Oh definitely, I won't deny that," said Valeria. "But I meant to ask, before we started talking about the pros and cons of muggle artwork, what exactly are these wizards protecting it from?"

"The Nazis. They steal art, burn art, all in the name of their ideals. Some wizards in Germany, and other countries near it, thought it was important to keep this from happening and decided to do something about it, in ways that only they, as wizards, could."

"Those Nazis, they're a lot like Grindelwald, aren't they?" Valeria pondered. "They want everyone to be a certain way, and they want to get rid of everyone else." She remained in visible despair for a moment, and then launched herself into forced cheer, saying "Makes me glad I'm not German, anyway."

Tom had gone off somewhere after dinner, probably the library, so Charlotte was walking back to the common room with Valeria.

"Have you decided what career you're going to tell Professor Slughorn you're interested in when you have your meeting?" Valeria asked. All day, she had been making an effort to act like things were normal, as though there had not just been a second attack, and this time on a teacher.

Charlotte shook her head. "I know that I like Herbology, but that's so similar to what my mother does, you know?" She paused briefly before saying, smilingly, "I'm sure you know what job you're going to be pursuing, of course."

"We hardly even need to have a meeting for me. He's well aware." Her grin turned to a frown as she paused before saying, "But you really have no real idea of what you want to do with your life?" Charlotte shook her head. "I can't imagine that!" cried Valeria. "I think about my life after school so much it feels like I'm already living it."

"In a way, you are. Already you're designing things and marketing things…"

Valeria was still confused about Charlotte's situation. "You're a Slytherin," she said. "We're ambitious. We know what we want, and we go after it."

"I guess not always."

"Hm. Well, you've still got two years, I suppose."

"At Beauxbatons, I would have had another year. Their equivalent of the OWLs takes place in sixth year." Charlotte had no real reason for saying this; it was simply a fact that came to mind.

"Are you homesick again?" Valeria asked slowly.

"No, I— Maybe a little," she admitted quietly. "But I can't have both, as much as I wish I could. I'm happy here, so it's fine." As she said this, however, her thoughts drifted back to the previous night, spent in the garden that was so familiar, so dear to her. She had to see it again.

Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the delayed update.

I did not invent Professor Beery, the one with an interest in theater. I think he's talked about in one of the ebooks published through Pottermore. I read about him on the HP wiki (because I'm obsessed and actually do research for this).