Author's Note: This will probably one of the shortest chapters. The character Dimaia Owens was inspired by one of my best friends because I told her that I would put her and I did, and she plays a very important part, so pay attention to everything she says. It may be reflected later on in the story. ^_~

Chapter Nine

~A known stranger~

Tom stirred in his sleep; the dripping became fainter and fainter until he could no longer hear it. He fluttered his eyes open; he saw the stone ceiling of the Chamber above him, he attempted to sit up. But a weight in his upper chest prevented him from doing so.

He looked down to see a head of red curls resting against him; it was Ginny; she was cuddled up against him and sleeping peacefully, or so it seemed. Events from the night before were still fresh on his mind, the intercourse of words they had exchanged; he had let her know way too much. He pushed her away very slightly, as not to wake her up, and stood up from the bed. He stretched and yawned while he made his way up to the castle, he was very tired, doing such powerful Dark Magic always left him weary. Thank Merlin it was a Saturday, there was no school.

As he stepped into the girls' bathroom, the wall closed behind him. He went to wash his face; no one used that bathroom anyway. He enjoyed the cold water splashing on his features and he felt very calm. He unbent and let the drops of water drip down; he then dried his face with his robes.

He turned around a came face-to-face with a girl he had seen quite a lot of times before. And with which, he had had some common ground.

She was a very pretty, mildly-pale girl with long, deep black, curly hair; dark brown eyes that resembled those of a cat's, in her forehead she had a single topaz starstone, in her arms she had numerous silver bangles with inscriptions in Portuguese, on her neck dangled a single amulet with a Topaz stone, on her fingers she had numerous rings with inscriptions and mystical spells. Her eyes were lined in black, and her lips were glossed. She was wearing a Hufflepuff robe, she was slim: her hands twined in front of her; she stood there looking at him out of those dark eyes, she very much resembled a gipsy girl put in a time not of her own.

She smiled very mysteriously and put her hands on her sides, her bangles tinkling as she did so. "The Head Boy in a compromising situation," she whispered in a misty voice. "Frightened that I may know something about his Chamber, or about his dear Ginny."

Tom stared at her, wide eyed, she was reading his mind. He tried to block his thoughts from her. "Don't read my mind—what was your name again—?"

"Dimaia Owens," she replied and nodded slightly. "I'd thought you'd remember me, Riddle." And she smiled again. He liked this girl's attitude, pity she was in Hufflepuff… She seemed about seventeen, she was tall, though not taller than he was. He remained to look at her; he had had encounters with her before, even more close encounters than this, but still he felt uncomfortable at the moment.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, leaning against one of the stalls and crossing his arms sarcastically.

"The question is: what are you doing here?" she said smugly and smirked. "I am in my entire right to be here, this is a girls' bathroom. And in case you haven't noticed, I am a girl, or don't you remember?"

"Nobody comes in here anymore," he said, ignoring her questions, he then signaled to Myrtle's gloomy ghost that was floating inside one of the stalls, "Not since she died."

"You mean since you killed her?" said Dimaia innocently. Tom glared at her through winced eyes.

"What exactly do you know?" he asked slowly and clearly. Dimaia shrugged playfully and turned around. She then, turned back to him and laughed airily, an enchanting kind of laugh that only someone as her could posses.

"Everything," she hissed in a misty voice, and started dancing gleefully, clearly mocking his seriousness.

"Define everything, Owens," said Tom swiftly and lowly. Dimaia laughed again.

"Should I?" she tilted her head to a side mockingly and then put her head straight, she approached him and stood very close and looked at him appraisingly, her dark eyes quickly changing to a dark purple, but she blinked and they changed to brown again. A strong smell of violets reached his nostrils. "I know everything that is going on in your mind, that's all I need to tell you, Riddle. Though, I know for a fact that you need a Source."

"I already have my Source," he said and distracted his gaze from her. She took two steps backwards and scowled.

"Oh yes… your Ginny," she spat those words in utter disgust. She almost looked jealous. "How do you know that she will remain faithful to her word? At the last instant, you'll see, she will turn her back on you, and she will betray you."

"She loves me and fears me enough to not do that," said Tom triumphantly. "What, do you want to show off your little crystal ball gazing abilities, I know people like you, Owens, gypsies that think they are superior because they think they know about things." Dimaia frowned deeply; she looked almost adorable, though the glint in her eyes told otherwise.

"She doesn't fear you anymore, nor does she love you." She raised her dark gaze to him once more. "And I do not show off, I am warning you… for old times' sake. I happen to know what will happen to her, what she will do, and believe me, you are not included. Her heart belongs to someone else, she just hasn't realized it yet, but she foresees it already."

"She does love me," said Tom and his eyes flashed dangerously, Dimaia looked indifferent. "Don't let your jealousy overcome you, Dimaia, you never let that happen to you before."

"She doesn't love you; she just thinks she does, because you are the only person that has expressed physical and emotional desire towards her as a woman. She thinks she owes you that." Dimaia said.

"You know nothing about that," said Tom angrily.

"I do know. I know that when she turns her back on you, you will be coming running back to me. But perhaps, it might be too late." She said and shrugged.

"How do you know that for sure?" he asked smugly, a smirk forming on his mouth.

"We share a past together, Tom Riddle." She said and caressed his face. "I'm sure you remember. I helped you open the Chamber. I helped you make that diary. We even became… very close. Do you remember?"

"I remember," said Tom and grimaced nastily "How could I forget? You constantly remind me of it."

"That's because I don't want you to forget it." Dimaia said and stepped closer to him. "There will come a time, where those moments will come in handy to you, but I shall not reveal when or what."

Tom eyed her right hand, which was still caressing his face and grabbed her wrist. He looked down at the palm of her hand, examining it and found what he was looking for; he then looked at his own right hand at his palm. "I see you still have it, and so do I."

"It will not go away," she said looking at his face while he traced a finger on the symbol in her palm, he felt her shiver slightly and smirked at her. "We made a connection, we vowed to ourselves and that magical link cannot be broken."

"We vowed to ourselves," he echoed. "I remember that night."

"So do I," she whispered and he looked into her eyes again while still having her hand on his, he was surprised to find that they expressed hurt. He understood her situation and stared at her.

"I didn't fall in love with you, Dimaia." He said looking at her frowning face. "That was the arrangement: we were to do that link without feelings, so we didn't regret anything afterwards. We didn't do that out of love."

"You did not fall in love with me," she said and nodded slightly, she looked down and then looked up again. "Yes, that was the arrangement. But such a deep connection, Tom Riddle, leaves a mark. It has left a mark on me, and I'm not sure whether it is good, or bad."

"Of course it left a mark, on both of us," he said and signaled to their hands and the symbols on them.

"Not that kind of mark," she said and sighed. "Forget it; I don't expect you to understand, though maybe you will afterwards, when the time comes for you to lose."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Me, lose?"

"Yes, you will lose." She said. "Don't think the connection comes without sacrifices. Giving each other to each other was not the sacrifice, Tom; that was the easy part, because we were—though we still are—teenagers. And you know what we had in our minds at the age of sixteen; we did not need to think twice before we did what we did. We both have to lose something else, as everything in life. And I lost already. Now it's your turn."

"What did you lose?" he asked curiously, she looked at him and put on a sarcastic face.

"You." She said and broke apart from him, walking further away; she stopped at about three feet from him and whipped around. "The conditions of our agreement, as you said so yourself, was to not feel. And we both broke that pact. I let myself fall in love with you. And you made a big mistake in letting yourself fall in love with her."

"I do not love her," he snapped quickly. Once again, Dimaia laughed airily, leaving behind all the repressed sadness she had just shown and becoming once more the strange gipsy that danced in mock to him.

"Yes, you do," she said gleefully. She then became serious suddenly. "And it is that love for her that will destroy you."

And she left in a whirl of scent of violets, and her hair flying out behind her as she danced towards the door of the bathroom and left through it, looking more like she was floating rather than dancing. And leaving Tom, thunder-struck, staring after her.

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