It was well past midnight and Alexa was still in the restricted section. She was trawling through books, looking for anything that might be related to horcruxes. Already, she had a pile of books that she deemed too dark to risk being found. Riddle had so many of the staff wrapped around his finger he could get access to the restricted section whenever he pleased.
Alexa froze, hearing the sound of shuffling footsteps behind her. Without missing a beat, she slid into the shadows, watching with bated breath as the caretaker limped through. Mr. Rook was practically ancient, with short tufts of white hair sticking out of his head and he used a cane to move about. She had met him briefly once, and he was a sweet old man, but definitely not somebody you wanted to be on the wrong side of.
"Is there anybody there?" he demanded, his voice crackling with age. He raised his illuminated wand tip, and squinted, looking around with a precise glare. For a moment it seemed as if he was staring right at her, right where she was concealed by shadows. But then his gaze moved on, and she exhaled, watching his retreating back.
She stepped back out of the shadows. She had spent at least three hours carefully combing the shelves. She sighed, and tucked the books away in her locket. It was time to go and catch whatever sleep she could. Tomorrow would be a long day.
She yawned, sipping bitterly at her tea. Of course there was no coffee in 1944. It wasn't popular yet. Tea was absolutely not the same. Riddle sat next to her. There were bags under his eyes, same as hers, and he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
"Could you pass that?" he asked, blinking.
"Tired?" she asked, handing him the teapot.
He nodded, "I was reading, I lost track of time." He spooned eggs onto his plate, and then bacon, and then beans, and then toast, and then some more eggs. She watched him fill up his plate, still unused to the sheer volume of food he was capable of sucking down. Teenage boys were a breed of their own. Voldemort was a teenage boy-that was a strange thought.
"Must have been a good book," she mused, pushing her own eggs around her plate.
"Mhm," he hummed.
Riddle had been disappearing lately, and it seemed to be occurring too often to be just his prefect duties. She hadn't had time to tail him, what with combing the restricted section and actually having to do school work. She was out of practice-after all, the past year had not been focused on learning. Reading English took her extra time, the words swimming just enough to make it difficult.
"Seems as though you didn't sleep well either," Riddle observed, as she yawned once more.
"Not particularly," she shrugged, "Weird dreams." That wasn't exactly a lie. With World War Two being fought by children of the big three, her dreams were nothing but violence and godly symbolism on repeat. No matter how much she slept she never managed to actually feel rested.
"Hopefully you can stay awake for the Slug Club gathering tonight," he replied, the corner of his mouth twisting up into a half smile.
Was teenage Voldemort teasing her?
"Forget the stupid club," Alphard said, appearing quite suddenly, "Quidditch tryouts are today!"
"Are you going for it?" Alexa asked curiously. She had been quite out of the quidditch loop. She didn't even know who was on the team for her house. In her own time she had followed it quite closely. The games in which Draco faced off against Harry had always been particularly good.
"I'm on the team," Alphard grinned, "Abraxas and I are chasers."
"Do they have quidditch in America?" Riddle asked.
"No, we have something a bit different. But I like quidditch, any sport really," she replied.
"Have you ever played? We're looking for a chaser, and you've got the right build," Alphard asked.
"I've done some informal games, but I'm not a big fan of flying." Alexa never wanted to push her luck about being in Jupiter's element.
Abraxas arrived at that point, and Alphard was lost to an intense discussion about some sort of racing broom or other.
"Are you going?" she asked Riddle, who was consuming his food with a shocking amount of grace given the speed at which he ate.
"No, Dumbledore's assigned a foot and a half of parchment on the process of animal transfiguration."
Alexa groaned, "I forgot about that." She was dreading writing the essay. She knew the material, she had already gone through her fifth year after all, with the much stricter McGonagall no less, but she was not fond of tedious essays.
"Do you want to come to the library with me to do it?" Riddle asked.
She blinked, surprised by his invitation. "Yeah, that would be great." she smiled. Ever since the duel, he seemed to be trying to make a point of engaging with her, but this was the first outright invitation. She was powerful and Slytherins were drawn to power, after all. He was also a prefect and she was still new, and he was devoted to his duties. He also might be suspicious, and therefore trying to keep tabs on her much the way she was keeping tabs on him. Or, maybe she was being paranoid, and there was nothing deeper behind it other than him being nice. She wished desperately she had somebody to talk to about all this. Blaise was so much better at reading people than she was, and Theo had always been the one to curb her naturally suspicious nature.
"In an hour then?" he asked, rising from the table.
"Meet you there," she nodded. He gave her one last smile and left.
"Wow, you've got Riddle socializing," Amelia snorted, "Weird."
"Weird?" Alexa asked, leaning around Alphard to look at Amelia, "What do you mean?"
"He's usually too good to study with anybody else, unless he's tutoring," Amelia shrugged, cheeks flushed. Alexa shrugged, wondering if the apparent dislike Amelia had for Riddle was to cover up something else. She had no desire to get involved in any teen drama. She was, to quote a thirteen year old Blaise, too old for that shit.
She stared down at her plate, leg bouncing with nervous energy. Tom Riddle was, to put it simply, boring. He ate, he went to classes, he studied, he read, he slept. He socialized at meals, and when absolutely necessary, but he spent most of his time alone. It led to Alexa also spending long hours alone, keeping track of him by sensing his life. It was three weeks in and nothing noteworthy had happened. But now she was going to study with him.
After so much constant action it was thoroughly underwhelming.
She kept waiting for something to happen, kept jumping at shadows, at whispers. Coiled like a viper, ready to strike. It would be so much easier, so much simpler, to just kill Riddle now. She felt like she was moving faster than everybody else.
In exactly one hour and not a minute more, Alexa had arrived with her school supplies in the library. Riddle was waiting for her, hunched over a very large, very old book. He was copying something down, referencing a second, equally large book as he went.
"Hello," she said, sitting down across from him.
He jumped, looking up at her wide eyed.
"Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she chuckled.
Riddle gave her a slightly withering smile, "Don't worry about it," he said.
"What are you working on?" she asked, pulling her transfiguration book out.
"Oh, nothing interesting I assure you. It's advanced spell theory-all in latin unfortunately. I've only just started trying to learn." Well there was a humble-brag if she ever saw one.
"Oh, let me see," she said, "Which part? Maybe I can help."
He raised his eyebrows as she peered over his shoulder. He smelled like sandalwood, she noticed.
"The line between magic and myth is a fine one, and in the case of transfiguration we find that line to be increasingly blurred. Regarding the development of the spell, we see that Thaddeus not only took into account his mythic goals, but his own, albeit primitive, grasp on the developing transfiguration magic of the time." She looked up from the book, a pleasant smile on her face.
He gaped at her, blinking rapidly, "You speak Latin?"
"Classical Latin," she grinned, sitting down across from him, "I think that's from the Renaissance"
"Well," he said, "That's impressive, thank you," he glanced at his notes, and then back at her. She could practically see the gears in his mind turning, the choice between keeping his research a secret and ignoring his pride long enough to ask for help being weighed against how much easier his life would be with her help.
"Yeah, let me know if you need help with it," she smiled, pulling out her supplies.
"I just might," he murmured, looking down at the Latin text.
"Have you started on your essay yet?" she asked, turning to the page she needed in her textbook.
"No, but he really just wants us to summarize and explain the theory and history. It shouldn't be too difficult." He set aside the books and unrolled his own parchment.
The essay was numbing. She knew the theory, she knew the material. She had mastered the spell. She sighed. She should have brought her old school work from the future. It would have saved her hours of time.
"So," Riddle said, "Was the school you went to before much different from Hogwarts?"
Alexa sat back in her chair, lips pursed, "It was much more focused on hands on learning and practical magic. Lots more spell work a lot younger it seems. I enjoyed it. It was a boarding school though, same as this."
"As fond as I am of studying, I do prefer practical applications of magic," Riddle commented.
"I'm much better at it than this. I'll take a duel over an essay any day," she chuckled. She sighed, looking down at her nearly finished essay.
"You're fortunate you weren't here before fifth year, it wasn't until now that defense against the dark arts was hands on."
Alexa cracked a smile, "You wouldn't believe how many bad defense teachers I had. One refused to let us use our wands in class, one was an old grizzled Auror who taught us a lot but also enjoyed terrifying students with demonstrations of the unforgivables. Another was a small time celebrity who fancied himself a genius-he accidentally removed all the bones in my friend's arm trying to mend a break."
Riddle's eyebrows slipped up towards his forehead, "How do you mess up that badly?" he inquired.
Alexa shrugged, "It's the wild west out there." She was careful about the information she told him, careful to watch every shift in his expression. Alexa kept having to remind herself to relax, to remember to act like a normal student. As far as Riddle knew, she was nothing more than a normal student. Sixteen years old, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and certainly not a time traveling demigod war vet.
Riddle snorted, stifling a laugh. He had dimples, she realized. A cute one on his left cheek. As far as she could remember, Voldemort was dimpless. Perhaps he lost that with his nose. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.
That was the trouble with Riddle. He seemed like a perfectly normal fifteen year old. A model student, a mysterious heart throb, a studious and ambitious individual with a bright future.
He was watching her with keen eyes. They were bright honey-brown, framed with thick lashes. She imagined he could charm the devil himself, and she knew it to be true. Batting those lashes would get him far in life.
"So, Alessandra," he began. He said every syllable of her name deliberately, and she arched a brow. He was looking at her through his lashes, a half smile on his face that made his dimple crinkle. She had told him to call her Alexa, hadn't she? Was he trying to flirt with her? Trying to get her to lower her defenses so he could pry her personal information from the lock and key she held under?
What a silly teenage boy.
"When did you learn Latin?"
"It was part of my schooling," she replied, leaning back in her chair, "My mother liked classics," an understatement.
Riddle seemed to sober when she mentioned her mother. "It's a useful skill for spellcraft." His eyes were trained on her face, the smallest bit of tension held between his brows.
"It's turned out to be quite helpful. Like I said, if you ever need help with translation, let me know." She flashed a smile.
"I'll take you up on that, I assure you."
They finished their essays within the next hour, sitting mostly in silence except for the scratching of quills.
"There," she said triumphantly, slapping her quill down on the table, "Done."
Tom glanced up at her, "Very nice," he commented, "I've just got a few more lines if you don't mind waiting."
"Sure," she replied. She looked down at her wrist to check the time, "We'll be just in time for lunch."
"Excellent."
She packed away her things, her gaze flicking up to watch Riddle intermittently. She couldn't deny he was attractive. He would have been a handsome man if he hadn't gone full Palpatine. She wondered if he had ever had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. She quickly pushed those thoughts away. That was something she didn't want to know. Riddle set down his quill, a look of supreme satisfaction on his face.
"Finished?" Alexa asked.
"Indeed," he replied, beginning to pack his own things into his well worn messenger bag.
"So," she said, once they began to make their way to the great hall, "What were you researching in Latin anyways?"
"Oh," Riddle glanced down at her. He was taller by only a few inches, but probably still growing. Voldemort had certainly been taller than her.
"Just spell development. Looking into how spells are created, perfected."
"That sounds very interesting," Alexa replied, "Any genre that interests you?"
"Healing-especially in regards to old age. That and curses," he flashed her a smile.
"Opposite ends of the spectrum there," Alexa arched a brow.
"I suppose so," he shrugged.
Alexa could sense he didn't want to say more, so she changed the subject, asking instead about the Slug Club dinner that night.
Fortunately, by the time her limits of stretching conversation had been reached, Alphard and Abraxas came bounding into the great hall, mud on their shoes and nearly yelling about tryouts.
Riddle sat next to her, and she forced herself not to stare at him. She had to stop thinking about Voldemort. She needed to relax, she knew his timeline. She couldn't let her guard down but she was going to give herself wrinkles with paranoia.
At least that's what Blaise would say. She suddenly wasn't very hungry.
She rose, her plate still half full.
"Look Abraxas, your lousy storytelling is scaring her off," Alphard snorted.
Alexa blinked, not having been paying attention to the conversation around her, "What? Oh, no, I'm just not very hungry," she brightened her tone, trying to match the mood, "I promise Abraxas's storytelling is very acceptable."
"Only acceptable, she says," Alphard repeated, elbowing Abraxas, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Very acceptable," Abraxas corrected.
She smiled, and gave a half wave in parting.
She was almost to the common room when she heard crying.
"Filthy half breed," a voice sneered. Alexa inhaled sharply, fury lighting in her chest as she broke into a jog toward the sound of the commotion. A boy, a very tall boy, was backed into a corner, looking at the two older boys who had cornered him. Slytherins, she quickly realized, even from a distance. She broke into a run.
"Leave m-me alone," the boy stammered.
"Or what, halfbreed?" one of the Slytherins sneered. He flicked his wand and the boy's face erupted into boils, causing him to cry out in pain.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Alexa shouted, blood boiling. She surged forward, shoving away the taller of the two.
It was Avery, with his hair like oil slick.
"And who you think you are?" Avery hissed, straightening his tie.
"C'mon kid, lets go," she said to the crying teen. She reached out to take his hand when Avery snatched her wrist.
Without hesitation, she swung her other arm and punched him square in the nose. She heard the fragile bones in his face crack beneath her fist, and she yanked her wrist away.
Blood was immediately pouring down his face and he staggered backwards clutching his face, eyes wide in horror.
"You broke my nose, bitch!" He gasped, spitting onto the stone.
"I'll break more than that, bitch!" She mocked. The other boy, who she recognized as Dolohov had skittered backwards away from her and now stood behind Avery.
"Whore!" Dolhov shouted.
Alexa rolled her eyes "Wow, what an insult."
"We'll get you for this!" Avery said, his voice thick and stifled. The two ran away down the corridor and out of sight.
"Alessandra!" Tom's voice called out, and she turned to see him striding towards her.
"Yup?" she asked.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyebrows were pressed so tightly together a deep crevice had appeared between them. He began to say something then shook his head, looking between the child and her.
"Are you alright?" Riddle finally asked.
"Yup," she looked down at her hand, flexing it, "Just a bruise."
Alexa turned her attention to the boy who was sitting in a heap on the floor. He looked remarkably familiar. She couldn't place him, but he wore a Gryffindor tie.
"Let me see your face," she said sternly, kneeling next to the boy. She grasped his chin firmly, "They certainly did a number on you, didn't they? Bloody bastards," she muttered. She had neither the skill nor the bedside manner of Lavender Brown, but she knew how to handle this.
Murmuring the counter curse, she slowly twirled her wand over his face. The boils faded, leaving nothing but smooth skin and tear stains behind.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently. The boy nodded, wiping his face.
"Yeah," he said, "thank you." His accent was rough and warm.
"I'm Alexa di Angelo," she said, offering her hand.
He smiled, and shook it with his own much larger one, "Rubeus Hagrid," he replied. Alexa grinned, unable to help herself looking at her future game keeper.
"It's nice to meet you," she said.
"Alessandra," Tom repeated behind her. Annoyance fluttered through her.
"Yes Tom?" she asked innocently.
"Attacking students is against school rules," he said stiffly.
She pursed her lips, rising to her full height, "And what, Riddle, do you suppose they were doing to him?" she snapped. She turned her attention back to Hagrid.
"What happened, Rubeus?" she asked.
"They don' like me. They've been follow'n me around an' putting nasty jinxes on me. I've been hiding in the owlery 'cause they said they were gonna get me before lunch and I didn't want to run into them. I was just tryna get to the dormitory. I hoped they would be eating right now." He looked down, wringing his hands together, shoulders slumped.
"They won't bother you again," Alexa said, "and if they do, come to me. I'll sort them out." Hagrid had always been one of the kindest people she had ever met. Like hell some bullies were going to lay a finger on him.
"Alessandra-" Riddle intervened tightly, but Alexa cut him off.
"Have you eaten today?" she asked Hagrid, who was looking at her with wide eyes.
"No," he said quietly.
"Well then, let's go to the kitchens. I'll walk you to your common room after, okay?" she looked up at him warmly.
He frowned, "I don't want to cause you no trouble. I don't want you to get hurt because yer standing up for me."
"Don't worry about it," she said firmly, "Those boys are worthless. Come on!" Her tone was cheerful, "Let's go!"
"And how exactly do you know where the kitchen is?" Riddle asked, a look of severe disapproval on his face.
"Oh...you know," she waved a hand airily. "Are you saying you don't want to come?"
Riddle stared at her for a moment, either confused by the invitation or weighing his own curiosity against the rule breaking. He fell into pace beside them.
They reached the portrait of the fruit in no time, and Alexa reached up to tickle the pear. The door swung open and they clambered through. Lunch was long over, and dozens of elves scurried about making preparations for the next meal. As soon as they were noticed an especially small elf came trotting over. She had the brightest blue eyes Alexa has ever seen and her ears were remarkably bat like.
"Sirs and miss!" She cried in a high squeaky voice, "How can we help you?" she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Riddle was staring at her with wide eyes, and she wondered if he had ever seen a house elf before.
"My friend here missed breakfast and lunch, I was wondering if it would be possible to have a sandwich or two made for him?" Alexa asked.
The elf stood on her toes, looking up at Hagrid, shocked by his immense size.
"We will makes you five sandwiches…" she said breathlessly, before hurrying off. Another elf came up and ushered them to sit at the table pressed into the corner and insisted on giving them all pumpkin juice. Alexa thanked them all, and Hagrid quickly followed her lead, striking up a conversation with the next one that passed by. Riddle turned to Alexa while Hagrid was being pulled away to pick out a desert, and gave her a seething glare.
"What were you thinking?" He hissed, "That was Avery! He's a seventh year and his family is one of the Sacred Twenty Eight."
Alexa regarded him coldly, "I was thinking he was attacking a child. I would have thought that would be a prefect's job to do something about it. Clearly I was wrong."
Riddle recoiled as if he had been slapped, "Look," he said stiffly, "You don't understand-" he was seething, and she realized that she may have made a mistake in riling him up, but she didn't much care.
"What I understand is that you chose to do nothing because of an archaic system of superiority, so I handled it. And I meant what I said. They touch him again and I will put an end to it." She crossed her arms and looked at Riddle, daring for him to object.
He gave her a hard look, "Not all of our names have meaning."
She scowled, "Di Angelo is my mother's name. She was a muggle, an Italian immigrant in America. I've never met my father. And I'm not ashamed of that. What I told Abraxas was true-my dad was from England, he was Italian, I just never met him. I didn't want his name."
He stopped short, brows pushed together.
"I'll protect him, I'm not worried about my reputation." She crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair.
"You realize what a precarious position that will put you in within Slytherin?" Riddle asked, his head tilted slightly to the side as he considered her.
"You realize I just broke Avery's nose, right?" she laughed, "I can handle myself Riddle. You'll give yourself wrinkles worrying."
He raised an eyebrow, but finally shook his head. "Just wait until I'm not around," he groaned.
She flashed a grin, "No problem."
"I do want to know how you found the kitchen though. I didn't even know it was here," he said, raising an eyebrow.
She considered him, leaning in conspiratorially, "Is this prefect Tom or regular Tom who's asking?" she asked, looking up through her eyelashes. Two could play at this game.
He smirked, "Normal Tom."
"I have been having a lot of trouble sleeping," she shrugged, "So I've been exploring the castle at night." It was the truth. The nightmares were only getting worse and it was rare she could get more than a few hours of rest at a time.
His brows pushed together, "And you haven't gotten caught?" he asked.
"I don't get caught," she smirked, glancing down at her hand, wincing as she flexed it.
He gave her a dry look, "Just be careful-did you hurt your hand?" He had noticed.
"I'll be fine," she shrugged, "I've done worse'
"May I?" he asked. She was surprised, but extended her hand to show him anyways. He took it with more delicacy than she had expected. His hands were warm compared to hers, and he ran his fingertips across her reddened knuckles.
"If it keeps hurting you should go and talk to Madam Dashwood in the infirmary," he said, releasing her. She had goosebumps running up and down her body.
Voldemort had touched her. Her skin crawled.
"I will-but I think it'll just bruise, if that. I've broken my hand before, it's definitely not broken or anything like that."
"When Dippet asked me to keep an eye on you, I didn't think you'd be this much trouble," he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together on the table.
She laughed, genuinely, for perhaps the first time since she had arrived in the past. "You have no idea Riddle," she grinned, unable to help herself. He smiled, glancing down at his hands. She could have sworn he was blushing.
"Thank you, thank you," Hagrid was back, holding a plate piled high with cookies, "Really this is so much, it's plenty, thank you." The house elf he was talking to snuck one more cookie onto the plate and went on its way. The blue eyed house elf bustled up with a plate piled high with sandwiches.
"Ham," she said, pointing, "Turkey. Eats up sir!" She said cheerfully.
"Thank you," Alexa said, "What's your name?"
"Poppy, miss!" She said.
"Thank you miss Poppy," Alexa said, with Hagrid chorusing her.
Hagrid dug in with all the gusto a thirteen year old boy could muster, and Alexa helped herself to a cookie.
