September 6th, 1943

The first double Potions lesson of the year was something most of the NEWT students were dreading, however Merissa knew that under different circumstances it would have been something she looked forward to, which made it all the more evident that she was not. If it wasn't going to be such a long two hours, if the afternoon hadn't been so lovely outside, if the class hadn't been with the Slytherin's, and one Slytherin in particular. . .

If Abraxas hadn't left halfway through their lounging in the sunny courtyard with some nonsense excuse about having to make it to the classroom in good time.

"What does he think he's playing at? We have the same class." Susan said, watching his shiny, bright hair disappear into the castle.

"Who cares," Alphard sighed from his reclined position on the grass. His head was laid back on his hands, eyes closed against the dappled sun.

Alphard had not enjoyed having to play along with the rumors that were circulating about Merissa and Abraxas going stronger than ever, though he understood their necessity. Merissa had softened the blow slightly by telling him between snogging in a lonely classroom, yet he hadn't been able to completely disguise his annoyance at watching the couple hold hands and peck goodbyes between classes.

Merissa had a pretty good idea why Abraxas had not wanted to engage in this behavior and walk alongside her this afternoon, to the one class they both shared with Tom Riddle.

Merissa had no doubt that Tom would be continuing in Potions this year - in fact she distinctly heard Patrick Burke whispering in scandalized tones over breakfast that Riddle had set some kind of school record for his scores on his OWLs - and she had been in no hurry to be within twenty meters of him, yet alone in a classroom.

Potions, from her understanding, was going to be a much smaller group this year as very few people had gotten high enough marks to continue the subject. Still, Susan had gotten an E and was therefore accompanying her down the dank corridor, though giving her rather furtive glances as she did so.

"Are you alright?" Susan asked her in an undertone as they followed a buzzing Edward Thomas and Patrick Burke down the stairway.

Merissa kept her eyes on the passageway, "Of course."

Since she had no intention of explaining to Susan why she felt so apprehensive seeing Riddle - especially given admitting what happened implicated her as an accessory to murder - it was better to deny it entirely.

The classroom door was in sight now and she could see the cue he was undoubtedly at the front of. They joined it, just behind the other Ravenclaws. The silence extended and Merissa realized there was not a buffer person between her and Susan's scrutiny.

"Where's Patil?" she asked, raising her eyes to look for the slight boy. She was sure he had said he was continuing the subject.

"He stayed behind in Divination," Burke told them, "He wanted to have Professor Renshaw help him interpret some visions he had over summer. Renshaw believes he's really developing his site. This one he had during class last year . . ."

He continued but Merissa was no longer listening. She had caught sight of the back of Riddle's head, tall before the others. He was in the front, Abraxas, Phillip Avery and Andrew Nott flanking him like a personal guard. Her hands tightened instinctively at her sides and she lowered her eyes to the floor until she heard the door open and Slughorn burst out, welcoming them with all the excitement of a child on Christmas. The cue began trickling into the classroom.

"Alphard's beckoning us to the back," Susan told her as they passed Slughorn, who was beaming particularly at Merissa.

"Here is fine," Merissa said at once, plopping into the very first row of tables. Susan's eyebrows twitched in polite incredulity but she sat down beside her without comment. Burke and Thomas took the bench behind them.

Merissa didn't want to have to consider Alphard right now. She just didn't want to have to look at him again. The thought of it made her hands shake.

James Patil was the last to arrive, slipping into a seat beside them. Slughorn was still making his greetings around the class and did not notice his tardiness.

"Did you run the entire way?" Susan asked, taking in his red face

He nodded, huffing as he took out his potions kit. His dark owl eyes flickered nervously to Merissa, causing him to almost upturn a bottle of amodilla bile. She blinked; he went back to hurriedly organizing his ingredients.

His haste was unneeded however, and by the time he was set up, Slughorn was still in a middle row, quizzing Avery and Nott about their holidays.

"It was quite pleasant, sir," Andrew was saying, louder than he needed to be, "My father recently purchased a small isle off Monaco, and the Fawley's joined us there."

"How is Regent Fawley enjoying his new Wizengamot seat?" Slughorn questioned.

Susan rolled her eyes and jabbed her thumb back at the sandy haired boy, "Count me perplexed how that egg managed it in here," she muttered in an undertone.

Merissa shrugged but James whispered knowingly, "Cheated shamelessly on the written portion."

"Of course," Susan sniffed, "I should have guessed. Heavens knows that's the only way Hornby managed to stay here."

Merissa hadn't noticed the blonde girl yet so she glanced back instinctively, realizing too late the mistake she had made. Tom's attention was not to the front of the room, so she didn't meet his gaze. He was sitting at a bench with Abraxas, eyes trained purposefully on Slughorn. She turned back around abruptly, forgetting all about Hornby.

Slughorn wasn't quick to call them to attention, as usual, but when he did, Merissa noticed he had a stack of papers in his hand. She stared at them as he began.

"Welcome back!" he greeted heartily, "And congratulations. Unless by some mistake, if you are sitting here it means that you have achieved a satisfactory OWL to continue with Potions at the NEWT level. I am very excited to have you all here," his eyes traveled around the room again as if taking inventory before beginning a bit more businesslike, "Let's begin again with another quiz. Nothing to worry about, I am reusing my tactics from last year after the glowing success of pairing you all off."

No one else seemed particularly bothered by this but Merissa felt like she had been hit over the head with her cauldron. How could have she been so stupid to forget.

"Yes, Riddle?" Slughorn said, and it took Merissa a moment to realize Tom must have raised his hand.

"Sir," he started, - she hadn't heard his voice in months time, and it had worn away her memory of exactly how silky it was - "Do you mean we will have our partners chosen by the marks again?"

Perhaps she was projecting her own feelings but he didn't sound particularly pleased either. She didn't hazard a glance.

"That's quite right, m'boy!" Slughorn replied easily.

Merissa could barely hear him over the ringing that had just developed in her ears. Slughorn handed her one of the papers with a wink and she took it numbly. Staring down at it, she felt her mind become blank. What were the chances they were paired together? In this small class, it was naturally high and considering their proficiency. . .

It was almost guaranteed. She sighed as she read the first question. She knew it, at least and was preparing to scratch down the answer when she hesitated, quill hanging over the parchment.

How many would she have to get wrong to be sure not to be paired with him? He surely would do well, but if she did poorly. . . Hellborne was the first answer, so carefully, deliberately she wrote Wormswort in its place. She sighed, feeling better already. She guessed she might get them all wrong, just to be sure.

It took her longer than it might have fabricating incorrect answers, making sure she didn't put anything inadvertently the least bit correct. By the time she handed in her paper, most of the class had finished, but Riddle was still bent over his paper.

Good, she thought I hope he gets them all right. I hope I never have to speak to him again.

By the time all the slips were on his desk, Slughorn rose as Phillip Avery shuffled back to his seat looking defeated. She wouldn't mind working with him, she decided, watching his large head duck down next to Nott. Anyone else, even Andrew, she would prefer.

"Very good," Slughorn said, but a crease formed as he shuffled the papers in his hands, "This may take me a moment, go ahead in the pairs you are already sitting and brew me a Draught for Aquatic Ailments, instructions for which can be found on page 36 of your books. Stores are up here."

But Slughorn seemed distracted, papers still shuffling in his hands and he gave Merissa a strange look as he returned to his desk, deflated slightly. She chewed her lip, thinking now she might have gotten a few questions right. He would think she had lost her talent entirely.

Susan sighed from beside her, as the class became louder with the sounds of potions kits being rattled, books opened and general chatter, "How do you think you did then? I shouldn't even ask you that, full marks I'm sure. I only hope I won't be with Hornby again."

Merissa smiled weakly, "I'm just pleased we can at least have this brew in peace. Should we start?"

"Brilliant," Susan agreed, "I'll read it over if you can grab the stores."

Merissa rose automatically and found herself cued behind the exact tall figure she had hoped to avoid. Folding her arms around herself as she waited, she willed him not to turn around. He collected the salamander's tails with care and turned, nearly brushing by her, as if he hadn't seen her. She blinked, but then a loud, rude cough from Olive Hornby reminded her she too was in line to collect the stores. She nearly crushed the slimy tails in her hand on the way back to her table.

The rest of the period was more placid to be sure. Working with Susan took her mind off things, as she seemed to have no inkling of stress. The taller girl hummed the Tornados team anthem under her breath, bobbing her head as she did, making the haphazard knot of silky black hair she had made on her head flop dangerously about, threatening to spill out into their bubbling cauldron as she leaned over it to add chestnut stems, the last ingredient to their brew. It turned the exact shade of light yellow it was meant to and Merissa smiled at it appreciatively as she ladled it into a vial.

Slughorn glanced up as she placed the sample on his desk but his smile was lacking, "Very good, Miss Thorpe. Stay after class, would you?"

Her heart sank, "Was there something wrong with my brew, sir?" she asked, knowing there was not.

"No, no," he waved her down, "Just come to my office after you clean up. You and Riddle both."

Merissa felt a welling panic as she turned, but Tom wasn't paying attention to notice her stare, cleaning his cauldron without expression. She returned to her bench, packing away her own ingredients, her stomach knotting.

"I'll meet you after," she told Susan, trying to sound offhand.

The classroom was empty faster than she would have liked it to, so she had no choice but to approach Slughorn when he beckoned them to his desk with an appraising expression. Tom stood back a pace or two and she could feel his presence all down her spine as if he were only inches away. She clamped her jaw, willing to get a hold on herself.

"Now, I want to make it clear initially, you two are not in trouble," Slughorn said.

It was almost a shock to hear him speak, it felt very much like she was alone with Riddle. Slughorn regarded them with a would-be reproving look, where it was not for the blatant pleasantness he could not seem to repress upon speaking to them. He seemed to expect them to respond in some way to this, but Merissa did not have the faintest clue what he was fishing for. She glanced sidelong at Tom. He was staring straight ahead and gave no indication he had any better idea what this was about than she did.

Slughorn smiled, and lowered his voice, "Well, if you two wanted to be paired together you could have just asked me. I would have expected you would have anyways, there was no need for both of you to purposely fail."

He placed their papers down on the desk and Merissa saw Tom's was just as thoroughly marked as her own. She stared at it, uncomprehendingly.

Slughorn winked at them as he took the papers back and shuffled them, "No matter, I'll let you get away with it this time. But no more of this, you understand?" he wagged a finger at them but Merissa barely noticed. Had he just paired them off anyways? She didn't think she could manage a retort if she tried.

"Sir -" Tom began and the protest in his voice was clear, although Slughorn did not seem to realize his intent.

"Now, now, don't apologize," Slughorn waved him off, rising, "You can do so by brewing together dynamically as you do. Or, if you feel motivated, another box of crystalized pineapple would go a long way. Now, off both of you, or you'll be late for dinner."

Merissa attempted to come up with a valid reason to argue, but her mind was blank as he ushered them out. Standing, now alone in the corridor, Merissa expected Tom to round on her but he simply began walking briskly back up towards the stairs. He made it halfways up the flight before she found her voice again and bounded after him.

"Riddle!" she called, hurrying. He turned so fast she nearly rammed into him. She caught herself on the banister and scowled, "A word?"

"We're having one whether or not I would like it," he said coldly. She noticed he was not looking at her at all, but regarding a pillar behind her with a curled lip.

"Did you plan that?" she snapped.

He narrowed his eyes over her head. He was silent for a moment, then decided at length to answer, "I was trying to avoid being paired off with you, in fact. It seems we had the same idea. Shame it didn't work."

His voice was ripping as a winter wind and she felt her chin jerk up proudly, "A shame indeed," she sneered, "Fine, that's how it is then. Nothing to be done about it."

He turned again without regard and strode out of the dungeons. He hadn't looked at her, not even once.

/_\

It took Tom three tries to get into the Room of Requirement that afternoon, so peeved by the day he could barely think straight. Although he knew he had to express his instructions for the room clearly in his head, thoughts like what he would like to do to Thorpe kept popping into his mind. When he did manage through the door, the room was so filled with noxious steam he had to cover his nose and mouth with his robe sleeve.

"Goddamnit!" he explostulated to the otherwise empty room, squinting through the foul smoke.

A violent wave of his wand sent it flying into the above vents but his eyes were still stinging as he took inventory of the seven bubbling cauldrons. He had timed it perfectly so the stages would match up to be done once he was out of class but the slight delay after Potions had caused havoc. The turquoise liquid that was bubbling away in the first few cauldrons was fine, entirely salvageable, but the delay for stirring caused the most important of the elixirs to burn. Now something like dried sap was crusting the pewter, still issuing a stream of black steam as bubbles broke the thick surface. He extinguished the fire underneath it and shoved it off the burner with the toe of his shoe, mostly to vent his own annoyance, hissing a string of curses to himself.

His eagerness to return to school had blinded him to the very obvious concern that he had nowhere to brew in private here. It had been exceedingly easy to slip up to his flat whilst at Borgin and Burkes, but slipping away here, especially when he had so many simpering admirers, was proving to be more difficult than he would like. Of course Lestrange and any of the others would have assisted him without thought if he asked, he did not want anyone else having a chance to guess what he was doing. No matter how concrete their allegiance, they had such connections to each other, he never could settle well with how much they shared unwittingly.

This would have to be something done on his own, which he liked better as it was.

Evening had set in and Tom had missed dinner entirely by the time he was satisfied with his new brew, setting it aside on the small flickering flame that would heat it until the early morning when he would return to tend it again.

Even as he entered the hallways leading to the common room door he could tell some sort of commotion was occurring and he felt drawn at the thought of smiling his way through another party. He saw now the necessity of making his gang think he was like them, if not far superior. The boys liked the small sense of comradery they were able to attain from it and it made them eager for more. Still, he couldn't understand how their stomachs could stand to drink so much and so often.

When he shouldered into the common room however, he was met by an unfamiliar scene, half of the room sitting around the radio listening intently and the other half chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

"Riddle!" Nott crowed in welcome, front and center before the radio, "Come join us, you won't believe the news!"

"Won't I?" Tom asked appraisingly but did not join the tight group, hanging back instead to survey the room.

"It's Grindelwald," Lestrange told him, leaning back against the high back of the leather couch. He did not seem as amused as Nott, himself and Malfoy, the sole pair looking disgruntled, "He's made a bit of progress, we were just hearing."

Nott snorted, "Call it invaded over almost all of Northern France in the evening."

Tom moved at once to listen to the broadcast and Nott turned to Lestrange, "I told you he'd agree with me-"

"Shut up," Tom snapped, "I'm trying to listen."

The room went quiet, save for the reedy voice coming from the broadcaster.

". . .it's unclear just how many Muggles have disappeared so far related to this incident, however current estimates put the number over a hundred. Their ministry is reporting air strikes in the areas affected but due to the large scope this may not be a sufficient excuse for long -"

"Missing, not dead?" Druella Rosier whispered aloud, "What is he doing with them?"

Nott shrugged and Malfoy muttered, "Bloody insane, taking them as prisoners. It's unnatural for our kind to even commingle-"

" . . . I'm just getting that two more regions have been stormed. Picardie and Nord-Pas-de-Calais are now reporting fighting as well. The men are believed to be right on the English Channel, though it is not clear if the rebels mean to cross or cause a stir. Goodness, as if our dear old Minister didn't have enough to worry about , now the school. . ."

"He won't actually make a move on Beauxbatons, will he?" Diantha Greengrass asked, her eyes darting from face to face as if they might answer.

Lestrange snorted a bitter laugh, "Well if the ancient halls of my family aren't sacred to him, why would he respect anything less?"

Tom at once understood where Lestrange's hostility came from. He was so used to his family being treated as so above all others, as pureblood royalty. A lack of respect, even perceived, was a mortal threat to his family honor.

"I'm sure Grindelwald didn't mean any offense, Lestrange, honestly," Nott cajoled, "Collateral damage is bound to happen. Come on, have a drink with us. You're bringing the bloody mood down."

"I wouldn't expect someone without such an ancestral home to understand the importance of such places," Abraxas sneered.

Nott reddened, "I'm as pureblood as you are, you damn elitist. What does it matter which line I come from as long as it is pure."

"Now, that is a dangerous line of reasoning, Nott."

The boy now turned pale as eyes turned their attention to Tom. Some of them seemed to know instinctively when he was angry before he let on, and those who didn't were curious with what he would say. He allowed his eyes to rake over Nott for a moment so it was clear he knew he misspoke.

"Consider, if this were true, how would we distinguish between old and new lines? Would they be equal then? But then there is the undiluted tapping of hundreds of generations of pureblood witches and wizards into one line, how could that not be a more important fact than who the last few generations were? The truth is some lines are so pure, so beyond reproach, they exemplify the very best a wizard can be."

"Think about it you, idiot," Lestrange snarled at the now cowed Nott, his lips curling in triumph "Who was top of seventh year last? Joseph Thorpe. And this year, it will be me. Next, it will be Riddle, obviously. All descended from the oldest lines in Europe. It isn't a coincidence."

"Y-you're right, I-"

"Of course, he's right," Malfoy snapped.

"What do you think of Grindelwald, Riddle?" Avery asked earnestly. He had since put down his celebratory glass, seeming to rethink it.

The room seemed to hold their breath for his response and he lingered in the moment, savoring it. He had been neglecting his influence over them in his other pursuits, however they still took absolute priority in his word.

"I think he's daft at best, completely insane at worst," Tom told them, "It isn't just his disregard for the old lineage I find so abhorrent. Taking the Muggles alive - even if he does plan to use them for slaves as people speculate - is the work of a coward so low he doesn't have the stomach to stomp out vermin. Meanwhile, all he does is waste: pureblood lives and history. Those are two commodities we cannot spare. If we had the leader to end the Muggles, not just nullify them, there would be no need to worry about the reaction upon the end of secrecy. There is not much a dead body can do but lie there and take it."

Not a soul in the room said a word, the rushing of the lake against the windows the only commentary. He allowed the words to sink in before he began again, "Of course it is difficult to palate for some of you with a weaker stomach: the idea of ending this threat, this annoyance. That same type of lacking approach is what leads to the line being pushed back again and again. Allowing us to concede until we're in classes, rooming and even breeding with these Mudblood and Muggle scum. Seeing them as deserving of the same respect our pureblood lineage affords us."

Lestrange made a noise as if the thought made him sick and several others nodded along to agree with his point. Tom raised his eyebrows, "I agree, that is what is entirely unpalatable to me. Although, don't let me interrupt your celebration. Rejoice for the imprisonment of filth - filth that would try to end us if they knew we existed - if you think that is all they deserve."

The implication could not have been clearer and no one was even touching their drinks anymore. Satisfied, he excused himself and went to bask in his smug pleasure, alone in his dormitory. He had no concern of being interrupted by a party tonight as he reclined in his desk chair, pursuing a book he had brought back from Borgin and Burkes.

Malfoy was first to join him and it was clear by his attention he was rearing to speak. He didn't leave him in suspense, but met his gaze.

"And how are our friends?" Tom asked him.

Abraxas was surprised by the statement enough to hesitate, although he was clearly pleased with the attention, "Swayed by your reason, of course, my lord."

Tom knew that would be true. To dislike the opinion was to admit openly you came from an inferior line. No one would want to say a word against it.

He nodded, "Of course, I am glad to have such companions that don't need such explanations. You knew without me having to tell you. I appreciate that about you, Malfoy."

The blond blinked as if stunned. Compliments were so rare from Tom they had a particularly charming effect when he wanted them to.

"I can trust you, can't I?" Tom asked.

The boy's grey eyes widened as he bobbed his head enthusiastically. Caught, just as Tom intended. Flattery was always the way to Malfoy, he should have realized it sooner.

"I have a very important task for you," he told him slowly, "I have to ask you because . . . well - I don't trust them the way I trust you. I need to know I can trust you."

"With anything, my lord," Abraxas murmured, bowing his head.

Tom's smile was self-satisfied, though he crafted it to look appreciative, "I want to be perfectly clear, no one else can ever know."

He handed the blond the black leather bound book. Abraxas was confused, staring down at it. At length, he asked, "What is it?"

"It is a very dangerous weapon," he told him carefully. Abraxas glanced up at him, "No, I'm not joking, Malfoy. Given the circumstances, opening the chamber again so soon would be unwise," Malfoy blanched but he paid him no mind tapping the book with a long finger, "This will make it possible for it to be opened again. I need you to keep it safe for me, in the meantime."

"Of course, of course," Malfoy said at once.

Tom smiled at him, "Good, thank you, Abraxas."

He so rarely used his first name that Malfoy started and then gazed at Tom with wide eyes. He knew exactly what Malfoy was thinking and he did nothing to dispel it, leaning back into his own bed and resting a copy of Defensive Spells for the Dogmatic against his chest.

Tom didn't mind being separated from the book, so long as the gold circuit with the heavy black stone remained safely on his finger.

Don't let it out of your sight, insisted a demanding voice in the back of his mind. Perhaps he was imaging it, but it had seemed to become more insistent since his creation of the diary, not less.

He flexed the hand that held the ring reflexily as he turned the page.

Pick a more worthy item next time, the voice whispered, There should be no such thing as a throw away bit of soul.

Scowling, he wasn't retaining much of the instruction his eyes were pouring over anymore. He thought the voice was being a bit unfair. He had his reasons for choosing the journal. Slytherin's diary had been the reason he had found the chamber at all. And he had the diary on hand and didn't want it much anymore.

But even he knew that had less to do with that, compared with the fact that he rather wanted to destroy and immortalize the one thing she had given him. It only seemed right.

A stupid thing to do, the voice lectured him, A foolish, thoughtless way to make such a decision.

"Be quiet," he told it, irritated.

There was a pause of silence and then Abraxas lifted his head from his own desk, frowning, "What?" he asked into the otherwise empty dormitory.

Tom hadn't realized his order had been out loud and he shook his head as if to clear it, "Nothing, Malfoy," he told him.

The voice stayed mercifully silent for the rest of the night.

/_\

Merissa rested her chin on her palm and watched as Abby unsuccessfully suppressed a yawn for the third time that evening from across the library table. The wind rattled against the library's latched window, making the girl jump. It was becoming more diverting to watch than the Ancient Runes essay Merissa told herself she was allowing to dry before continuing on.

"You should just go to bed," Susan was telling the red-head, also for the third time.

"What, and hope my homework does itself?" Abigail sighed, rubbing her glossy eyes, "We've got about a month's worth this first week, I don't expect I'll ever have the interest to, I just need to push through."

Merissa's was also growing distracted and her eyes kept wandering up to Alphard, who was seated across from her. It was testament to the incredible difficulty of the course work that he was here so late as well. She found she didn't mind it at all.

Perhaps it had been her adamant denial of the subject for so many years, but she was certainly beginning to understand what girls giggled about his careless handsomeness. He ran a hand through his hair as he considered his scroll of parchment, chewing the end of his tawny falcon quill in deliberation.

She went back to her own essay for a while, and by the time she was done, Abigail was drooping closer still to the table, her small, freckled nose only centimeters from the fresh ink of her parchment. Merissa flicked an ink pellet at her, causing her to start, blinking about.

"Go to bed," Merissa told her firmly, "Snoring on your homework won't do it either."

"Alright, alright," Abby griped and began to gather her things.

Alphard raised his head and Merissa found herself admiring his angular jaw. He seemed to notice her lingering eyes, for he turned up his own and consumed her with them. She brushed his knee under the table and he flickered an eyebrow at her.

"I'll come with you, I'm exhausted as well," Susan was saying and Merissa rose quickly, realizing she should go with them.

Susan shook her head, "Don't you have Arithmancy?"

Merissa bit her lip, "I do," and sat back down.

Once she was alone with Alphard however, she found herself wondering if she wouldn't be so aggrieved to finish Arthmancy in the morning, suddenly hyper aware of their knees, inches from each other as they sat. Eventually, he set down his quill and began to roll up his scroll.

"Done so soon?" she asked, barely containing her grin.

"I am," he responded with equal amusement.

"Won't you walk me out?" she asked, rising and giving him a coy smile.

He just grinned and nodded his head, stowing away his essay.

They could barely contain themselves long enough to find an empty, dark classroom to lock themselves in. Alphard bent as soon as they were alone, cupping her face between his hands and kissing her deeply. She responded enthusiastically, her tongue tracing his lip before clamping it between her teeth.

Alphard took a ragged breath before returning hungrily to her mouth.

"Wanted - to - do - this - all - evening," he whispered between kisses.

"Myself as well," she told him, tangling her hands in his hair to give herself a better grip. He returned the motion with vigor and her head became blissfully empty while she felt nothing except the touching of their lips and his hands on her. It was a while before she felt him pull away, a poor sign for her distraction.

"We should talk about this," Alphard muttered into her hair.

She shook her head, eyes still closed and drawing quick, excited breaths. She wished he would let whatever it was go and continue kissing her. He certainly seemed to enjoy it, so why he kept interrupting was beyond her. Hopefully, she leaned forward - and was exceptionally annoyed when he did not do the same.

"About what?" she asked breathily.

"This - us," he said quickly. She opened her eyes and stared at his mouth. It was stained from kissing her, "Should I talk to my parents first, or yours? I know they like Malfoy, but -"

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, "Why would we need to talk to them about this?"

She knew he shared a closer bond with his parents than she did with her own, however she couldn't imagine corridor rendevouz with someone else's intended was anything that they could possibly be in confidence of, or would have reason to be.

Alphard seemed to think she was being daft, "Well, I don't know about you but I'd rather not have to skulk around like this for the rest of the year. I'd like to date you properly, Mer, take you to Hogsmeade and walk you to class. As much as I enjoy snogging you, I would like to call you my girlfriend as well."

Merissa blinked rather rapidly at his jaw. Was that what they were? She hadn't considered it much. In fact, skulking around was exactly what she had in mind. Never had she intended for anyone besides Abraxas to be aware of it, and that was only from necessaicity. Susan had just made a lucky guess.

"Well, if Abraxas is any indication, going steady with me is more of a chore anyways," she joked.

His eyes bore into hers, "For Malfoy, maybe. I couldn't imagine anything making me happier."

"Don't you think we're being a bit hasty?" she asked carefully, untangling her hand from his, "I mean, we haven't really had a chance to discuss matters."

"Merlin, what do you think I've been trying to do, you won't let us come up for air," Alphard laughed, yet there was an edge of irritation to his voice, "I mean, what was your plan then? I figure they'd get over it rather quickly. I mean I'm-"

"Alphard," she interrupted sharply, because he was looking at her with intensity, but he did not heed her.

"I'm in love with you, Mer."

She stared at him, before turning abruptly, "Why did you have to say that?" she muttered to the empty room, but he heard her.

"What kind of response is that?" he asked sharply. She recognized the injury of his tone without the context of his expression.

She shook her head, and turned back to him, "I'm sorry, I just can't believe that."

"Why not?" he demanded, "You must have known I have, and we've been snogging for months either way."

"You don't know me well enough to say something like that," she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows in credulity, "That's nonsense and you know it. I've known you for most of our lives, Mer. If you don't feel the same you can just say so-"

"I don't!" she said harshly and he winced.

"Merlin, alright," he said, softly suddenly.

She sighed, "Al, don't be - you know I adore you."

"Not enough, apparently," he said coolly, "I get it. I just - fuck."

He looked away from her.

"Al . . ."

"Goodnight Merissa," he said firmly and did not look back at her as he turned, out the door and into the dimly lit corridor. She did not attempt to go after him.

Susan was the only one in the common room still awake when Merissa entered a quarter of an hour later. The fire was nearly dead, smoldering on the last bit of coal and the hanging lamps dimmed, casting long shadows around the room. The girl's amber eyes flickered curiously to her and her obvious scowl.

"You're back early," she hissed, "What happened?"

Merissa shook her head and threw herself down on the couch opposite, furious at herself, "I was a complete disaster, wasn't I? He said - you know - again and I did the only logical thing and imploded on him."

Susan's eyes wided, "Oh dear, how did he take that?" she asked.

Merissa gave her a knowing look and the taller girl leaned back in the velvet chair, sighing, "I don't know what he was thinking."

Merissa appreciated her loyalty, however thought privately if Susan had been there, she would have thought differently about it.

Susan was watching her still, biting her lip, "Look, I have some dreamless sleep in my trunk if you want any. You look exhausted."

Merissa dragged her hand over her face, "I do as well. I'll take some before I lie down, I promise. I'm going to go take a bath now."

Susan scrunched her face up but nodded, turning back to the scroll on her lap. Merissa lit her wand and crept into the adjoining lavatory. Running the water, she soon submerged her body in the sudsy depths, taking a long breath of the steam.

Realistically, she knew she could apologize to Alphard tomorrow and he would forgive her at once. Still, part of her wondered if she owed him an apology. He had said it again, and with her asking him not to. What was he thinking, saying that?

The suggestion of getting their parent's involved was equally ludicrous. Her brother was already marrying a Black, there would be no benefit to connecting the families further. She could only imagine her father's expression if she asked to be, what exactly? She didn't think he realized the capacity of what he was asking for - or seemed to assume even. If his intention was to become engaged, she didn't think he appreciated what that meant, nor did she think he knew her well enough to really say so. Abraxas at least knew what had happened last year and was still able to look at her. The thought made her insides squirm so she stood from the water and pulled the drain, padding back to her dormitory.

Still clasped in a towel, she bent down over her trunk, rummaging for the bottle of dreamless sleep she knew should be somewhere inside, guided by the dim glow from her wand tip. Her hand stopped over a section of her trunk she knew she had not unpacked since the previous year. In the corner, where she distinctly remembered putting the copy, the twin of the diary she had given Riddle, was a pile of black ash. She stared at it, hardly daring to push the pile about with a hem of a sweater. They were in the perfect shape of a book until they were disturbed, falling at once into nothingness. A strong smell was all that was left to prove it had been there at all. She blinked at the now empty space in the pulsing light, as if the explanation was just likely to fall into place as it had fallen apart.

"Ugh Merissa, turn that light out," Abby groaned from across the room.

"Sorry," she said at once, and extinguished her wand, slipping hastily into bed. Still, and without the potion to calm her, she wondered what Tom could have possibly done to his copy to make it turn so, and why that smell, like of burnt flesh, was so familiar.

Thank you so much for reading and all the kind reviews I have received on this story, even when I have been the worst about updating. I do appreciate it very much. Special thank you to Alice whos reviews have been incredibly kind and funny. I will be responding to reviews in the next chapter because I simply cannot make ya'll wait any longer before I publish this chapter, its been a criminal felony how long this one had taken as it is. Thank you again for reading!