Author's note:

Wow. The outpouring of love I got for the last chapter was really awesome! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you're the reason this one came out so soon. I was motivated to stay up late one night and finish it... Enjoy!

(check the end of the chapter for another AN)

Chapter 16: Collateral Damage

Amalia seemed completely calm, even though internally she felt anything but. Fortunately, she'd always been good under pressure.

"Rosier was missing, Professor," she explained earnestly. "Riddle said he was going to look for him - I wanted to come with."

This was plausible. Riddle was a prefect, and even though it was almost midnight and therefore passed curfew (even for prefects), it was not such a travesty of broken rules. Any other teacher would accept this explanation.

But of course, Dumbledore was not so easily fooled. He looked immediately suspicious. "So you teamed up? But just this morning you two were fighting."

Amalia waved off his comment airily, "Fighting? Hardly. We argued, sure, but..." she gestured at Riddle and Rosier. "We're all friends; both of us were concerned about Rosier."

There was a strained silence as Dumbledore stared at them.

Rosier, catatonic on the ground, Amalia, obviously determined to take care of him, (without help, as usual), and Riddle, who seemed once again to be at the epicenter of trouble.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. Oh, clearly, all of them were friends.

"We found him like this," added Riddle, speaking up for the first time. His concerned expression was very convincing. "It's a good thing you came along when you did, Professor, perhaps you could look at him?"

Dumbledore said nothing, but the coldness in his eyes spoke volumes as he swept forward.

"Enervate." he said simply, and Amalia was amazed to see the simple spell actually work. Of course, Dumbledore was a great wizard; even the simplest spells he cast were several times more potent than they would usually be.

Rosier blank eyes slowly cleared, and he blinked as if coming out of a deep sleep. He stared at Dumbledore looming over him in confusion, then at Amalia, who gave him a lightning-fast wink of encouragement. Lastly, he noticed Riddle crouching right beside him, and almost yelped aloud in fear, shrinking away.

Dumbledore nodded to himself; that reaction told him all he needed to know. "Riddle, step away from him right now. Rosier," he said in his kindliest voice, "Tell me what you remember of the last few hours. You're safe now. No one will hurt you."

But the terrified boy's gaze didn't shift from Riddle, still acting the part of a concerned friend.

The taller boy ignored Dumbledore's instruction as if he hadn't heard it. "Go on," he urged gently, laying a 'reassuring' hand on the trembling boy's shoulder. "You can tell us everything." Say anything and you're dead.

"Tom-!" Dumbledore said sternly, frustrated at being ignored.

Rosier blinked stupidly at his terrifying leader. Even in his befuddled state he got the message, loud and clear. He kept his mouth shut.

After a brief moment, Riddle turned to Dumbledore. "He seems confused... But I would guess that a spell back-fired," he said meaningfully, his fingers biting into Rosier's shoulder.

The fair-haired boy tried not to wince too obviously, "Y-yes, that's right..." he hastily babbled, voice cracking. His throat was sore from begging... "Sir... I was p-practicing magic on my own..."

"What spell did you use last?"

He threw an uncertain glance at Riddle, who smiled reassuringly (threateningly) and nodded for him to answer.

Rosier was on the brink of tears under all this pressure in his fragile state. "I... uh... Don't remember, sir..." he whimpered. It was half-true. His memory of the last few hours was hazy. He just remembered pain, and fear.

Amalia decided to step in, her protective instincts flaring. Rosier had been through enough. (Also, if Dumbledore asked any more questions, the truth would be exposed, and she didn't want Riddle expelled. It would spoil her chance at revenge.)

"Riddle, out the way," she ordered, forcefully pushing him aside. He backed off, scowling.

She gently laid a hand on Rosier's forehead - it was hot, as if he had a fever. His pupils were pinpricks, and the skin around his eyes had sunken in, forming grey circles. He gazed at her gratefully, as if she was his salvation. He'd woken up and seen her and Dumbledore, 'saving' him from Riddle's torture. Well, though Dumbledore was an unpleasant surprise, it had been her intention to save him.

Perhaps I can even spin it so that it seems I'm responsible for getting Dumbledore involved, too... Huh, as if. She felt bad about Rosier, sure... but she would never involve Dumbledore, or any teacher for that matter, in their little game. It was just one of the unspoken rules of engagement.

But Rosier didn't need to know that.

She smoothed his hair tenderly back from his forehead, thinking quickly. This isn't actually a bad turn of events. It all worked out in her favour, as long as Dumbledore didn't figure it out first.

"Sir, Rosier needs rest," Amalia said firmly, slinging a protective arm around her friend. "Surely this interrogation can wait until morning?" After Riddle and I discuss what to do about the... collateral damage. She watched Dumbledore make all the wrong assumptions as Rosier leaned naively into her embrace for comfort.

Victim and protector.

Even though it was Amalia's fault for bringing Rosier into their dangerous game in the first place.

Dumbledore's angry gaze turned back to Riddle, who looked on the verge of rolling his eyes.

"You had something to do with this." he accused.

Riddle looked shocked at the insinuation, but suddenly seemed unable to rip his eyes from Dumbledore's laser-like glare. Dumbledore took a small step towards him, and Amalia suddenly saw his fists clench, knuckles turning white as he fought to hold his ground.

Her eyes widened.

Riddle was... scared.

"Sir," she interrupted bluntly. "I need to take him to the Hospital Wing. Riddle can help me."

Somehow, it wasn't only Rosier who'd roused her protective instincts tonight.

Dumbledore was reminded of Rosier's unknown condition, and finally turned his scowl away from Riddle. "You may, and quickly..."

Amalia carefully helped Rosier to his feet. He was very weak.

"But first, answer me this... Where were you today, Amalia?"

Shit.

For the first time, Amalia hesitated before answering. She couldn't help glancing uncertainly at Riddle - he must have concocted some kind of lie to explain away the scene she'd caused in the Great Hall. But there was no way he could communicate it with her so that their stories matched. His face was back to an expressionless mask.

"Well, we... had an argument," she said slowly, deciding that a version of the truth was better than a baldfaced lie. "I needed some time to cool off."

From Dumbledore's disgruntled expression, it seemed she hadn't said anything contradictory to Riddle's excuse, at the very least.

"And what did you argue about?"

Amalia made a dismissive gesture. "It was just a misunderstanding." she shot a nasty look at Riddle. "And don't worry, he'll make it up to me."

Tom snorted at that, then remembered Dumbledore was watching them closely and schooled his face back to mask-like neutrality.

Dumbledore stared at her for a moment, then looked back at Riddle.

His gaze hardened. "Once again, I see you two are determined to conceal the truth."

He forestalled Amalia's protests with a raised hand. "Tom. Give me your wand."

Riddle froze, suspicion in every line of his body.

"Now, if you please."

He could not disobey a direct order, but didn't take his eyes off Dumbledore's face as he slowly drew his wand out of his pocket and resentfully offered the symbol of his power... to his worst enemy.

Dumbledore took the wand and pointed his own at it. "Prior Incantato." he intoned grimly.

Riddle hid a smirk, relaxing.

A ghost-like form of a pocket-watch enlarging and shrinking, the lesson they'd practiced in Charms class, emerged from the tip of the wand; a record of the last spell it cast.

Dumbledore seemed somewhat put out by this unexpected result.

"If you're finished, sir..." Riddle said expectantly, holding out his hand.

Dumbledore returned it reluctantly, with a frown.

Riddle stowed his wand away again, smug.

"So be it." the old man said, sounding frustrated. "It seems once again you've been meticulous about not leaving evidence..."

"I have no idea what you mean, sir," Riddle said smoothly. Using Amalia's wand for the Dark magic had just saved his future. And possibly prevented a one-way ticket to Azkaban, if the truth about the Dark Arts book was ever uncovered.

Dumbledore turned to Amalia, but there was no suspicion in his gaze. He didn't ask to check her wand. Instead, all she got was a lecture. "I admit I expected better from you, Ms Gray. You know the truth about what happened here, yet still you keep quiet. You didn't seem the type to be easily influenced by others-" his gaze flickered to Riddle, who stiffened, "But it seems I was wrong."

Amalia felt annoyed. If he wasn't so focused on finding a reason to get Riddle expelled, he would have checked her wand too, or Rosier's, since the story had been a "spell back-firing". But no, in his mind Riddle was the root of all evil and everyone else was a victim.

She instinctively glanced at Riddle, knowing he would agree with her annoyance. To her surprise, they had a brief moment of eye contact, and he... gave her a tiny smile.

What?

Not a dazzling, creepy smile, but a kind of like a reactionary half-smirk, as if Dumbledore's naivety was their own private joke. A secret only they shared. As if, in that moment, they completely understood each other.

It was gone a microsecond later, and thereafter he kept his gaze fixed on Dumbledore, deliberately ignoring her.

Did I just imagine that...?

But she was left with a strangely buoyant feeling of accomplishment, like she'd just won a big, fat trophy for something.

"Since you are so determined to stick together, you can both sit detention, every Friday evening until Christmas break. At the very least, I can keep an eye on you."

"But, sir-!" protested Amalia, jolted out of her thoughts by this announcement.

"On what grounds, Professor?" demanded Riddle, barely keeping his voice civil. How dare a teacher give him detention?! It would tarnish his perfect record.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Why, for Amalia missing class, for causing Amalia to miss class, for being under suspicion of dueling, for being out of bounds late at night... Or simply because I desire the aid of my two brightest students on Friday evenings. You may choose which you prefer."

Riddle pressed his lips together, fuming. But there was no way he was getting out of this. Not if it was going against Dumbledore...

Seeing he had no more arguments, Dumbledore turned to Amalia, whose expression was inscrutable again as she supported a semi-conscious Rosier. "So, I'll see you both on Friday evening, and consider yourselves on final warning."

She nodded grimly. "Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," Riddle basically spat, an ugly look in his eyes.

Dumbledore smiled thinly, somewhat satisfied with this result. "Good. Now, you'd better get Rosier to the hospital wing, and then to bed."

Amalia was surprised that Dumbledore didn't comment as Riddle joined her, intending to accompany her to the Hospital Wing as she'd suggested. But she felt his shrewd eyes on her shoulder-blades as they walked away from him, in silence, out of the Third Floor Corridor.

How much does he know, or guess, about what happened? she wondered uncomfortably. It was hard to tell.

She didn't bother being cautious with Riddle; he wasn't stupid enough to start anything now. They were walking slowly, Rosier stumbling like he was drunk. He didn't seem very aware of his surroundings, his eyes beginning to wander as the effects of Dumbledore's Reviving Spell wore off.

Riddle cast a charm to prevent eavesdropping as soon as they were close to the Hospital Wing, and by unspoken agreement, they stopped.

"This is your fault, you know." Amalia snapped instantly, leaning Rosier carefully against the wall. He sagged there, barely upright, gaze unfocused.

"Oh, is it now?" the sarcasm dripped from his voice. "But you were the one to provide the spells, I only practiced them. And you're the reason he was involved, at all."

Amalia paused in her motions of flexing her arm (which had gone to sleep from bearing Rosier's weight. Riddle hadn't helped once, the uncaring bastard). She looked at him seriously. "Riddle, you went too far."

To her surprise, he actually nodded, reluctantly acknowledging her words. "I admit I may have gotten... carried away."

"Dumbledore's looking for any excuse to get rid of you- you have to be more careful."

"Why do you care?" he asked abruptly, no heat in the question. He seemed genuinely curious, "Wouldn't things be easier for you if I was expelled?"

She gave him a crooked smile. "Easier, yes. But much less exciting." she cocked her head at him, "Isn't that how you feel, too? I mean, if you wanted me expelled all you had to do was suggest he check my wand. But you didn't."

Riddle stared at her, expressionless, for a long moment. He hadn't even considered blaming her... even as a last resort to save his own skin. A hundred other plans and schemes had flown through his mind... but not that one.

For some reason, this uncharacteristic oversight made him very uncomfortable...

She sighed. "So? How are we going to deal with this mess?"

"Leave it to me." he said immediately, returning his focus to the matter at hand. "I'll have a word with Slughorn. If he gets involved first, Dumbledore will have to back off- he isn't our Head of House. We can come up with a suitable story- I already have a few ideas."

Amalia opened her mouth to reply, then paused. She looked at Rosier. "He seems pretty out of it..."

She gently smacked his cheek - he had no response, eyes vacant. She turned back to Riddle, confident they could speak privately. "Listen, you need to do damage control with him. As soon as he wakes up - before Slughorn or Dumbledore gets a chance to talk to him."

"Rosier wouldn't dare betray me." scoffed Riddle, but Amalia thought she detected a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"He's in a fragile state, physically and mentally," argued Amalia. "If you aren't there to scare him into silence, he'll talk." And not only about Riddle's secrets, she thought grimly. My involvement, too. "It was a mistake involving him in our game - we need to make sure he's on our side."

Riddle surprised her once again by agreeing without fuss. "Then, a Memory Charm-"

"No!" exclaimed Amalia, rolling her eyes. "Why is your first choice illegal torture, and then straight on to illegal memory alteration? What's next if that doesn't work? Murder?"

He blinked at her.

She smacked her own forehead. "It is, isn't it? Ugh, that's so... Excessive!" She tutted. "Listen, a Memory Charm in his condition may very well turn him into a gibbering idiot- THAT'S NOT A VALID SOLUTION-" she clarified, catching his "that works for me" expression.

He folded his arms, scowling. "You have a better idea?" he demanded sullenly. Unfortunately all his followers had been trained in resisting the Imperius Curse... With varying degrees of success, but it was too risky to be a foolproof solution.

She rolled her eyes again. "Of course I have a better idea. Ethical issues aside, Memory Charms can be broken. We need him on our side. The compulsion to protect us both from any consequences needs to be strong- enough to withstand an interrogation - now, or in the future."

Riddle grimaced. "Well, he clearly trusts you - he always was a gullible fool -" he sneered, "But I can't just take back what happened tonight. The whole point was to..." he exhaled moodily, "Leave a lasting impression. I'd be surprised if his affection for me is unchanged."

Amalia's eyebrows rose. "You knew how he felt about you?"

"Of course."

"Is that why-"

"No, I don't care either way."

"Why?"

"Why so many questions?"

She just raised an eyebrow at him.

He sighed, and said in a bored tone. "There's no logical reason why I should find it offensive. I'm not ignorant enough to hate something just because society does."

Amalia filed away this unexpectedly mature answer for future consideration.

"Then, what about muggleborns?" she probed inquisitively. "And your obsession with blood purity?"

"I'm not obsessed!" he snapped, irritated. "And muggles are weak and stupid, which is based off of my own experience, not... conjecture."

"But-"

"We're getting off topic!" he practically yelled. "Do you have a plan for Rosier or not?"

"Jeez, calm down," she answered coolly. "I was just curious." She hummed thoughtfully, glancing at Rosier drooling against the wall. "I still think if you used your mad seduction skills -"

Riddle's eyebrows flew up, "... Mad seduction-?" he spluttered.

"- you could probably get him back on base. But you'd have to do something to leave a lasting impression... like, make out a little-"

"I will not." refused Riddle firmly, "I don't like t-" he started impatiently.

"-Touching people." she cut him off dryly. "Yup, you've told me that before."

She liked the way he glared at her when she pissed him off - it made her heart all fluttery.

She ran a hand through her hair, "Well, there's one other option..."

"I'm all ears." he said acidly.

She shrugged. "He already thinks I'm the hero in this situation. So, let's pretend I have something to hold over you, I've ensured your compliance. We convince him that he's safe. He can remain at your side, you can stay your usual dangerous self, just... Not towards him. Of course, it will mean you actually can't hurt him again. Like, ever. If you regain his trust and break it again, I guarantee next time he'll run straight to Dumbledore," she warned. "Do you think you can hold back, at least until we graduate school?"

He snorted. "I don't need to use torture to get my way."

She grimaced. "Riiight... You just do it for fun. Not creepy at all. Don't they have a psychiatric term for that?" she mocked.

Riddle narrowed his eyes at her, but chose to ignore her teasing. "No more torturing Rosier. I can do that. But how do you plan to convince him it's the truth?"

She grinned, and explained her idea.

"Absolutely not!" he snarled instantly, furious. "I would never allow-"

She smiled, a slow, Cheshire-cat grin of utter smugness. "Do you have a better plan?" she inquired silkily.

He glared.

A full minute ticked by, as Riddle paced back and forth like a caged tiger, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

"Fine." he spat at last.

"Good." Amalia grabbed Rosier's arm again and tugged him away from the wall, cheerful. "Let's go wake up the nurse."

Rosier blinked heavily a few times, hazy colours and shapes coming into focus slowly as he came to.

Where am I?

High, arched beams in the ceiling, lit with a grey natural light... it was... morning?

The last events in his memory came flooding back.

Riddle, causing him so much pain he begged for it just to end...

Then, strange blanks where he started losing his grip on reality...

And Dumbledore, and Amalia, standing over him... protecting him... making the pain go away.

"Oh, good, you're awake." a matronly voice addressed him, as the somewhat dumpy school nurse, Madame Romalda, bustled into view. She had wild curly blonde hair and a reputation for sometimes nipping at the gin, but the Hospital Wing was her domain. For the moment, he was safe. Rosier felt the knot of tension he'd had in his stomach upon wakening loosen at last.

"It's Theodore, isn't it?" she said kindly, approaching and checking his pulse and shining a light into his eyes briskly.

"Um, yes." he croaked, and coughed.

"Your throat is bound to be dry," she said, pouring him a beaker of water from the pitcher on the side-table,"You've been asleep for two days."

He took a large gulp of water, and then spluttered, "T-two days?!"

She nodded. "Your friends were very worried - they visited several times - but I told them it was no wonder, after the stress your body has been experiencing."

He felt his heart jumping uncertainly in his chest as he wondered which "friends" had been around. Was it Riddle? Was he coming back...?

"Deep breaths, Theodore," she said kindly, taking his wrist to monitor his pulse. "You're safe here, remember?"

She waited patiently until he'd calmed down again, her kind eyes shrewd. "Do you remember what happened? Do you want to talk about it?"

He busied himself taking another sip of water, avoiding her eyes. He felt weak and light-headed, his hand trembling with the simple effort of holding the cup to his mouth. "Spell backfiring." he mumbled after a minute, remembering with a shudder the murderous look in Riddle's eyes.

"Right." hummed Madame Romalda skeptically. She had her own suspicions about what kinds of spells could cause his particular condition. "Well, whatever the case, you suffered some pretty nasty side-effects. Somehow, your brain was enchanted to convince your body you were in serious danger - it overloaded your nervous system, causing a dangerous fever, among other things. I don't mean to sound melodramatic, but you came very close to permanent brain injury..."

Rosier felt numb, just letting the words wash over him. Riddle. Riddle had done this to him. On purpose. He'd... laughed, while doing it. All these years, he'd obediently followed his every command... And now...

"Fortunately," she continued, "It seems that with some bed rest you'll make a full recovery."

He pulled himself out of his dark thoughts and nodded. He was fine. It was going to be alright-

She cautioned, "Just try to keep yourself calm and quiet - the next few days you're likely to feel anxious and any stress may very well trigger a panic attack. If you need anything, I'll be right at the end of the hall." she indicated the small office at one end of the ward.

"Thanks." he murmured, and she left him to get some more sleep.

There was a screen around his bed, for which Rosier was grateful, even though the ward was empty of other patients. He didn't suspect it would be the case for long; an empty ward was unusual for Hogwarts, since magical accidents (or non-accidental injuries... like his) were quite commonplace.

He only had a few hours sleep when he had his first visitor.

"Amalia!" he mumbled, blinking into wakefulness and struggling to sit up on weak arms.

She seemed like she'd sitting at his bedside for some time, working her way through a small stack of books from the library. She closed the book and smiled at him. "Hey, you. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," he admitted, but returned her smile. "I... thanks..." he stumbled over the awkward words, "If you hadn't arrived when you did-"

"You're my friend," she said simply, "I told you, didn't I? I protect my friends. I'm only sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"Dumbledore. Did you-?"

"I only wanted you to be safe."

"Is... is Riddle going to be expelled?"

"... No." she said at last.

He couldn't help his very mixed feelings showing on his face at the news. A part of him was happy - the part that had worshipped Riddle for five long years. But a much larger part was so very afraid - terrified - of being in the same room as him again.

His brow contracted, "Amalia - he - he used..." suddenly his breath seemed to come shorter, "He used some kind of dark spell, t-to- I couldn't breathe, and - the pain, it was -"

Suddenly she left her chair and unexpectedly swept him into a warm embrace, holding him close.

"It's okay," she said simply, rubbing his back.

To his shame, tears started streaming down his face and he sobbed, tension leaving his body in weak tremors.

"I know," she said fiercely, her voice muffled in his neck, "I know what he did. But he's never going to hurt you again, Theo, I swear it. I won't let him."

Despite his anxious state, he somehow managed a watery chuckle, wiping his eyes, as she let him go and sat on the edge of his bed. "Th-Theo?" he questioned.

She gave a self-conscious smile. "The nurse was calling you that all the time. I wanted to be here when you woke up - So I've been hearing your name a lot. Do you prefer Rosier? I can-"

"No, it's fine." he said, and sniffed. "We're friends, right?" He was really touched she'd been so worried about him.

She beamed. "Of course."

His smile faded. "But you can't always be here." he said quietly, a haunted look entering his eyes. "Next time, he might-"

"There won't be a next time." interrupted Amalia matter-of-factly. Resolutely.

"You don't know-"

"I've sorted it out." there was no uncertainty in her voice.

He frowned. "How?"

"You don't need to know the details," Amalia said firmly. "I've had a long talk with him about it, and he's agreed to certain... terms," (Rosier thought that sounded highly suspect. As if she'd sold an organ, or... signed a contract in blood...) "He's agreed not to hurt you again. Ever. Well," she remedied, "I would still advise you not to piss him off, but he won't ever use you as...ugh, target practice again." she sounded angry and protective. But that wasn't going to be enough!

"How- You can't expect me to just take your word that -" he started, but Amalia waved away his protests.

"I know it sounds hard to believe, but he agreed not to hurt you, ever again. Just... look at it logically," she said earnestly. He fell silent, taken in by her intense gaze. "Theo, what do you think your relationship with him has been, up until now?"

Rosier remained quiet - this was a painful topic for him. He was very aware that his relationship was bordering on slave-master, which was just so... pathetic. Demeaning. All because of his unnatural attraction... A dull flush of shame coloured his face, and he looked down, twisting the material of the bed sheets in his hands.

"You're more important to him than you think."

Her soft statement caused him to look up instantly, heart hammering. "... What?"

"It's true." she nodded sagely, completely serious. "Who do you think is his most trusted follower?"

Follower - not friend, Rosier thought bitterly. He sniffed. "He's got a funny way of showing it."

"He relied on you, all these years..." she continued, "For your intelligence, your discretion... your loyalty. You think your trust was one-sided? He needs you, Rosier."

He shook his head, disbelieving, but unable to say a word. She sounded so sure. So confident. What if... it's true? "It doesn't change what he did." he argued, shaking his head. He hated how weak he sounded.

Amalia took his hand tenderly.

"Do you know who carried you to the Hospital Wing?"

He frowned, trying to remember. Everything was hazy. "You... I think?"

She laughed lightly. "Even I'm not that strong - it's a far distance. Riddle helped get you here."

"He... he did?"

She nodded. "He even admitted that he'd gone too far. I think..." she chewed her lip and looked thoughtfully into the distance, "I think... deep down he was worried you weren't going to make it."

Rosier stared at her. Could it be true?

Amalia caught his skeptical frown and pulled a face. "Very deep down," she clarified.

"No," denied Rosier, sounding less certain than ever. "No- that's not true! He doesn't care about anyone - anyone but himself. He doesn't... need me."

Amalia gave him a sympathetic look, as if he'd just said something extremely naive. "Then, why do you suppose he went so far?" Her previously soft tone was suddenly confrontational. "He almost killed you, Theodore Rosier! Do you realize that?"

Rosier felt his breathing become shallower as she reminded him of the terrible ordeal- he was almost hyperventilating.

"I don't know!" he said, almost hysteric. "Because he's a sadistic psychopath?! Because he didn't care that I- that I might-" he choked, gasping for air. He wondered briefly why Madame Romalda hadn't come running already...

"No, Theo." she said in a low, persuasive tone. "If he truly didn't care about you, he wouldn't have lost control. He would never have come close to killing you... by mistake. You know him - everything he does is for a reason. He didn't want to kill you - but he lost control."

Rosier tried to slow his breathing - thinking - actually thinking - about what she was saying. It was starting to sound a little like the truth.

"This is my theory." she continued, seeing that he was now listening closely. "He found out about our little plan - he found out you had become my friend - you, his most trusted confidante-" she praised, "The one person he wanted most at his side-"

Rosier couldn't help the small glow of pride at this description...

"- he found out that this person had betrayed him. He was angry, and hurt... and that's why he reacted the way he did. Not because you mean nothing to him, Theo," she said meaningfully, "It's because you mean the most."

He took some time to process this, frowning. What she said made sense... in a weird, kind of fucked-up way.

"Whatever his reasons," he said at last, shaking his head, "It doesn't change what happened. And... there's no way you have the power to guarantee he won't do it again. Whatever deal you made, he'll break it," he warned, "Whatever threat you made, he'll find a way around it-"

"Like I said, I've ensured his cooperation. There's no way he'll be able to break the vow he made." she said meaningfully.

His mouth dropped open. ... no way... break... vow... Was it possible?

"As I said," Amalia continued calmly, "The details of the arrangement are unimportant. The point is, he doesn't want to lose you - as a loyal ally, as a confidante - and in exchange, he promised to never hurt you again."

He blinked at her, confused and disbelieving.

She smiled, utterly confident. "I thought you'd take some convincing." she patted his hand. "Well, what better way of proving it than to hear it from the man himself?"

Rosier stared at her as she got up. "Wait. You don't mean-"

"This'll just take a moment, I'll get him." she assured him, ignoring his blanched, panicked expression. "I'll be right back."

"No! W-wait, Amalia-!"

But she ignored him and strode cheerfully out of the Hospital Wing, closing the door on his protests.

Riddle smirked at her lazily as the door clicked shut. He was leaning lazily against the wall.

"Impressive, Gray." he drawled. "You almost had me convinced." He snorted. "As if I'd make the Unbreakable Vow for an idiot like him."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" she sighed, shaking her head. "He really is too trusting..."

"It's time to do my part, I suppose." He didn't sound like he was looking forward to it.

"It's not too late to change your mind and go back to the seduction idea," she offered, with a grin. "One kiss and he'd be a goner?"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "How about no." He pushed himself off the wall and stretched.

"He's not a bad kisser," she teased, grin widening. "I know from experience, remember..."

Suddenly Riddle was right in front of her, right in her personal space. Something about her last comment must have seriously ticked him off. "And what would you know of experience?" he said dangerously. She gazed at his lips, curled into a licentious smile, then up to his smoldering eyes, burning with their ever-present, repressed rage.

Woah, sexy... thought Amalia, impressed. If he thought she would be intimidated by the raw sex-appeal suddenly oozing out of him, he was going to be disappointed. The first time he'd used his crazy, 'fuck-me' eyes on her, it had caught her off guard. But since then she'd come to terms with the physical attraction. Now... it just really turned her on.

"Why don't you... enlighten me?" she smirked right back, doing her own version of 'come hither', bedroom eyes. He seemed momentarily shocked by her flirtatious riposte. She leant a little closer, watching in satisfaction as suspicion and annoyance flicked behind his eyes in quick succession. And... frustration...?

After what seemed like an age, it was Riddle who broke their stale-mate first.

"Tch." he said dismissively, and stepped around her, towards the Hospital Wing.

Amalia pouted, "You're no fun." Her laughing, brown eyes hid the pang of very real disappointment she felt inside.

But there were more important things at stake.

"Stick to the plan," she reminded him - he gestured rudely at her in response, still annoyed. She ignored it. "And don't worry about the nurse - I cast a charm over the office door that muffles sound. But don't do anything that, you know... makes him scream."

"I know what I'm doing!"

"Don't scare him-"

"I know-"

"Don't screw up and make him run to Dumbledore and confess everyth-"

"I KNOW!"

Amalia paused, unruffled. "... Good luck."

"Fuck off."

He pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing and strode irately inside.

Author's note:

Quick reply to Rebecca's review (I couldn't PM you) about Tom using Amalia's wand. Yes, I was thinking he was quite pleased with her wand because they are somewhat compatible, both in terms of magical power and also personality. Also, though they are both quite different (Amalia may be at times ruthless and arrogant, but she's nowhere near Riddle's level of "cruelty for cruelty's sake") they don't hate each other. When Hermione had to use Bellatrix's wand, it felt unpleasant. When Harry used Hermione's wand it wasn't so bad, because they were friends who trusted each other. Amalia and Tom feel kinda drawn to each other, so I wanted this to reflect with their wands. Also, bear in mind that Riddle "won" Amalia's wand in a duel-type situation. It's allegiance may have briefly changed.

I'm really enjoying this story. I actually keep writing chapters that won't happen for quite some time, just because I have so many awesome ideas about Tom and Amalia's futures beyond Hogwarts. No spoilers just yet, but exciting things are on the way.

We're also nearly ready for the chapter which started it all - the first one I ever wrote for this story.

Yay :)

Leave a review with your thoughts, and I'll try to keep the momentum going!