Author's Note: In the process of revising this chapter! There was some stuff that I just couldn't leave in any longer so I fixed that but didn't do all the edits I would have liked because it would take more time. I've got a whole list of changes to make to earlier chapters and I'm working through them in order of highest priority.

Valeria had gone back to their dormitory after Charlotte told her she wanted to talk to Tom. When Charlotte came down a while later, Valeria was silent—no greeting, no questions, no comment. This didn't go unnoticed by Charlotte as odd, but she didn't understand the reason for it.

"What are you working on?" she asked, seeing Valeria had once again covered her bed in fabrics and was standing in front of her dress form, which had one of her sets of school robes on it.

Valeria stopped what she was doing, but took her time answering. "If you'd been listening to me earlier, you would know," she said with a sigh.

Charlotte folded her arms. "I had other things on my mind. If you had listened to what I wanted to say, you would know about it."

"Well see, only one of us can talk at a time." She was making Charlotte feel foolish, and that was bringing back some of her anger. "So, do you want to tell me about it now? Or not?" Valeria asked.

"It doesn't really matter," she said. Now that time had distanced her from the event, and Tom had helped cool her exasperation, she felt less upset. "Just several people I encountered making fools of themselves."

"Earlier you mentioned Oliver and his friends. What happened with them?" Charlotte recounted the conversation to her, now with much less emotion than she had had when she told Tom, although repeating Elliot's words momentarily infuriated her all over again. "I'm surprised they were talking about that," Valeria said. "The attacks have made people more cautious about bringing up blood purity, in case it makes them a target. But they were Gryffindors, you say? Maybe they think they'll be able to fight off whoever or whatever is causing the attacks." She snorted. Charlotte, too, had to laugh at this. Then Valeria continued, "I suppose we shouldn't be laughing about that though. While you and I aren't in any real danger, it truly is frightening a lot of people. I admit it scares me a bit, too. To think that someone could have it out for the Muggle-Borns like that…"

"And am I right in understanding that this whole thing is… part of the school's history? That Salazar Slytherin started it, and there's a Chamber of Secrets and someone is the Heir of Slytherin?" Charlotte asked.

"Nothing's ever been proven about any of that. There certainly are a lot of stories that would make it appear true, but it could just be people copying each other and being—I don't like to use the word in this way, but—inspired by the stories. Anyway, the existence of any secret chamber built by Slytherin is highly dubious, if you ask me. Really, how could it be part of the castle and no one, other than these supposed Heirs have found it over the years?" This seemed logical to Charlotte too.

"I suppose I'll ask Tom if he knows anything about it," she said.

Valeria nodded. "If there's information on it out there, he's probably read it in a book at some point."

"That was my thinking exactly," laughed Charlotte.

Tom stood in a hallway on the first floor, feeling very uncomfortable. There was absolutely no way of explaining his presence there if he were caught doing what he was about to do. He watched a Ravenclaw girl disappear around the corner. "Homenum revelio," he said, pointing his wand in the direction of the girls' lavatory. It was empty. He hurriedly made his way across the hall and went in, ignoring the burning sensation in his hand as he turned the doorknob. Not much of a deterrent if someone who shouldn't really wanted to get in. But that was very fortunate for him. And for the destiny of Slytherin's heir.

He stood in front of one of the sinks and spoke in Parseltongue. "Open."

The circle of sinks lowered and vanished, followed by the large pillar that they were centered around. A seemingly bottomless pit was left in the floor. The first time he had entered the Chamber of Secrets, he had, not knowing what to expect, been forced to slide down the tunnel in a wholly undignified manner. Now he had better ways. He cast a spell that brought stones out of the side of the walls to form stairs, like a reverse version of the glisseo spell. It would have been much faster to take the slide, but it just felt so ridiculous and humiliating, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"You haven't completed your tasssk." Tom heard the snake's voice as soon as he made it into the Chamber. Excuses ran through his mind. Excuses, he thought with disgust; since when was he someone who had to make excuses? "Do you know which task I mean?" The Basilisk appeared, entering the Chamber from one of its tunnels. If it had had a human face it would have worn a sneer; Tom could hear the derision without need of that, however.

"Only one task matters. Your spider is inconsequential," he answered bitterly. He heard a hiss that indicated anger. Good. They could both be angry.

"Have you made arrangementss for another attack, then?" Tom didn't answer. The snake turned away. "Jusst as well. It would likely only amount to another failure anyway." How dare— This made Tom's blood boil. He raised his wand.

"Expulso!" Their corner of the Chamber seemed to turn blue with the light from the spell reflecting off every surface. The Basilisk was only thrown a short distance, but the force of its landing shook the room. It lunged at him, baring its fangs. Tom couldn't suppress a flinch.

"You foolish, inssolent boy! Do you intend to reveal us? The whole school will have felt that!" It exaggerated. He merely continued to stare, filled with rage, at the snake, although they couldn't make eye contact. "You possess immenssse power; you musstn't ever attack me. Imagine if you killed the great Bassilissk of Slytherin."

"I would hatch a replacement," he spat. The snake had a point, however; he would never hope to kill the Basilisk that Salazar Slytherin himself had brought into the world. No need to tell the snake that it was right, though. At least, not in a way that would please it. "You're right; perhaps I should have used the Cruciatus curse. Don't tempt me." The Basilisk reared up at him again. "I am your master. You cannot harm me," he thundered.

The snake recoiled slowly with another irritated, incoherent hiss, followed by, "...But I could cast my ssight upon your lover."

"She doesn't matter to me," Tom said defiantly. "But she is a pureblood. You wouldn't go against the wishes of your original master and harm her. You have a duty to wizardkind to support the interests of those who have not dirtied their blood... and those of us who believe it is better to be that way." He half expected the Basilisk to make some snide remark about the necessity of that addition in order to include himself, but it seemed his threats had taught the creature some respect, for the time being. Instead, it went from the Chamber, leaving Tom with his thoughts.

He clung to his final words to the Basilisk; they proved his detachment from Charlotte, but showed a reasonable concern for her safety, based only on her status as a pureblood. With these words, he tried to wash away the echo of hearing 'your lover'.

The Basilisk's words had confronted him with the recollection of what he had felt when Charlotte had told him about Hogsmeade. The thought had flashed through his mind, just long enough to concern him; the feeling lingered, the feeling that on some level he cared enough about Charlotte that he wanted to retaliate for what had been said to her. And he had the means to do so.

Elliot, one of Oliver's friends, he remembered in her voice. It would be easy enough to find out who he was. Why did she have to mention the name? He would have been spared this torment if only he didn't know who the boy was.

Still, this boy deserved his punishment. He was clearly anti-pureblood. But Tom didn't think he ought to attack him because it might be traced back to him; he'd already let personal feelings get in the way once with Perdita. And besides, this didn't have anything to do with him; this was about Charlotte. He couldn't be doing things for her sake now. That would be an act of love, wouldn't it? Or something like it. Too close. His lip curled in revulsion.

He used to be on Gryffindor's Quidditch team. That was easy enough to figure out. He could almost recall the name… Chesterfield? No. And just as well he couldn't remember… He didn't want to know.

Rockwell? Also not it. He told himself to stop, right there; he was on the brink of remembering—Rochester. Elliot Rochester.

He was more irked than pleased that he had figured out the name. Now it would be so easy to tell the Basilisk who their next target was to be, and have it be him…

In the common room the following morning, just after breakfast, Charlotte sat down beside Tom and, without any prelude, asked, "Do you know if there's any truth to the stories about an Heir of Slytherin and the Chamber of Secrets?"

He felt a great concern that she was asking about this, but concealed it. "Aren't the attacks evidence of it? Of the Heir, at least; perhaps not the Chamber."

"Well, Val and I were talking about it and we thought that just because there have been attacks supposedly carried out by the Heir doesn't mean whoever that is really is the Heir, or that the status of being the Heir is even a real thing, for that matter. We wondered if you knew anything more about it, from your reading."

What he knew was not to be shared with her, not even the smallest piece of fact. "It really is a mystery," he said. "The truth has been well-hidden, if there is any truth to it."

"So you haven't read anything?" she asked, disappointed. He shook his head.

"Not anything more than what you've already heard, I think."

"What about in that book I got you? Part of it is about Slytherin; does it not mention the legend?"

"I haven't read much of it yet," he lied. "I thought I would read it over the summer, seeing as it doesn't belong to Hogwarts and I can take it with me." For this reason, he did intend to read it, again, during the holiday. He resentfully thought about how that would bring Charlotte to mind while he was free of her. However, rewording this realization allowed him to say something that would gain her favor. He put his hand on hers. "And it will remind me of you while we're parted." He looked deeply into her eyes to see the flare of emotion that would give him a sense of triumph, but what he felt was not success; it was failure at controlling his own emotions. So he told himself he only wanted her physically, and tried to make it true.

He placed his other hand on her face and kissed her with enough force and for long enough that people noticed. That certainly had not been his aim. "I wish I could make everyone else in the room disappear right now," he whispered with his face still very close to hers.

She glanced around the room, her gaze halting on each of the other students nearest to them. Her eyes returned to him. "Then what would you do?"

What was it people said? She'd ride on his broom? Why did it have to be so ridiculous sounding? He wouldn't say it. Besides, she looked as though she already knew the answer to the question she was asking. "Take you to the Quidditch pitch," he said. Close enough to be comprehensible, but less…silly.

But then she said, "Le septième étage..."

He looked at her with a smile; he had taken it upon himself to do some basic French studies. This was the first time he would be able to use it. It was easy enough to tell that septième was something related to seven, probably 'seventh', and that meant étage was probably 'floor'. "Tu comprends? You understand?" she asked, pleasantly surprised. He nodded. "Quand?" He understood. This was most convenient, her making the suggestion; now the third attack would be in only two days' time.

Before she even translated, he answered, "Mardi. [Tuesday.]" She beamed at him.

"You're full of surprises today, mon chéri."

He kissed her cheek. "Je t'aime." It meant I love you, and he hoped he could still deny it was true.

Author's Note: Let me just say that I loved writing the interaction with the Basilisk. I'm not exactly sure what it is about it, but it was a lot of fun.

I had a feeling when I previously included the phrase "making love" that it was actually inaccurate. I knew that in the past it only meant flirting, but I wasn't sure when the understanding changed. I wanted it to be correct because it made for such a good segue (in chapter 10, from which I have since removed the line—because historical accuracy; it was kind of an unnecessary part that I ended up not liking much anyway, so nothing of value was lost). But I did some research this time and it was basically not at all used in that sense in the early 1940s. (In 1949, the phrase was used to mean sex in George Orwell's 1984. I include this fact because later events in this story draw some accidental inspiration from 1984—one line in particular. So, there will be some commentary on that when I get to it. It's been over a year since I read it, but I wrote a pretty long paper that had to do with it, so it's kind of inescapably relevant to me now, haha.) Anyway, I was left with the option of making up my own euphemisms because I didn't like any of the ones that were in use then. Like Tom, I think a lot of them sound... well, I don't know how people take each other seriously while talking like that. But Wizards have their own slang, so I guess it was about time I introduced some of that.

Sorry that was so long.

Last thing: in spite of this chapter's ending, don't be fooled; Tom does not end up happily in love with Charlotte in the end. I'm not about that out-of-character writing, haha. Although... some ideas have crossed my mind about an alternate ending for this, as another story (which would be still in character, but no longer canon-compatible). Please tell me if that is something you think you might like to read~ Or if you're not sure and have questions about what it might be like, feel free to ask; I'd explain it better here, but this has already gotten super long, so.