Author's Note: Meg's song is Taking a Chance on Love by Benny Goodman.
"Drina Prewitt & the Time of Sacrifice"
Chapter Three: Roses For Remembrance
November 11, 1943
From her month long obsession with detective novels – something Meg would never forget - Drina knew that the first step in any investigation of a person was to see what the official sources had to say about them. The Ministry of Magic was notorious for the detailed nature of its records; unfortunately most of these began when one finished school or committed a crime, everything else was heavily spelled and restricted to certain Ministry employees. As Tom was still a student and had not received so much as a detention, much less run afoul of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under Aged Magic; there was little more than his name and date of birth in the official records.
A firm believer in running with what she had, Drina did not permit the brevity of the files to daunt her. She incorporated the scanty information into her slowly developing dossier on him. After she recalled that his mother died birthing him, she wondered if it might be possible to discover more about the son by researching the parents. There turned out to be an abundance of information on Thomas Riddle Sr., but none of it enlightening. Drina doubted she could ever comprehend why Aerope Marvolo agreed to marry him. He seemed a prat to her, but she acknowledged that she had the benefits of both distance and hindsight.
People in love are not rational, her father had been fond of saying. Lacking first person experience with love, Drina accepted his words.
Aerope Riddle nee Marvolo proved almost as much of an enigma as her son. Her apparation license marked the only other entry aside from her ten OWLs, birth record, and death certificate. The seventeenth anniversary of her passage beyond the veil – and her son's coming of age – was only a few days away.
She decided to try the newspapers next. Here too there was depressingly little about Tom Riddle to be found. A brief article about his exceptional OWL results and another much longer story about his saving of the school last term, but even it contained nothing revelatory. Then again, she had not expected anything of the sort from The Daily Prophet.
What she found on his mother in the papers was more interesting for the lack of information. 1926 was a dull year for news – the biggest story was a reported sighting of a rare Norwegian Ridgeback in Kent. Why then was the deliciously tragic tale of a witch first abandoned by the Muggle husband, then forced to live in abject poverty, and finally dying in childbed given a scant five sentences on a back page? The article described her late father, Catreus Marvolo, in greater detail than Aerope herself. The silence was almost deafening.
Drina wondered if the Ministry had some reason decided to suppress the story, but quickly discarded that notion. In 1926 old Alan Dearborn ran the paper and he was firm in his belief that only great need for secrecy merited suppression of the press. Then, under him, The Daily Prophet had been something. Each year that followed under the command of his son (a former Hufflepuff) brought the Prophet closer to being a mouthpiece of the Ministry.
She brushed the tip of her quill across the paper. The reason for the lack of news regarding Aerope could be appallingly mundane: a simple oversight or insufficient time to prepare the story. The simplest explanation usually proved true, but Drina found herself unwilling to accept it. Everything she was told her that something else was going on and she was determined to discover just what that was, even if her sources were rapidly dwindling down to one – Tom Marvolo Riddle himself.
* * *
From his birth certificate, Drina knew that Tom's birthday approached. Never one to share much of himself, it did not surprise her that he kept the date to himself.
After all, she thought as she perused the volumes in the tiny Hogsmeade bookshop, its' also the day his mother died. Birth and death hand in hand – a most potent combination. Unlucky if one is superstitious, but potent. His reticence provided her with the perfect opportunity to surprise Tom and soften his armour a little. He would not be expecting a birthday gift from her – and definitely not something tied to his mother's family.
Thus, she decided to spend part of the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term finding an appropriate gift for him. She knew straightaway that it would be a book by his grandfather, which was why she'd come to Bronwyn's Bemused Bookshop.
She had to climb the rickety oak ladder to reach the books on the upper shelves, where the sales wizard indicated the Marvolo books would be. There were two of Catreus Marvolo's books gathering dust; she cast a quick dust dispelling charm before noting the titles. She frowned as she realized the books were actually just different printings of the same work. She pulled the more ornate copy down and opened it to ascertain the edition.
Outside the shop, Meg ignored the chilly November afternoon and had her cloak draped over her arm. She was laughing at something a tall blonde boy was saying to her.
Intrigued, Drina leaned closer to the window. Is that who I think it is…
"A little light bedtime reading Prewitt?" Vanessa jeered.
"I'm surprised to see you in a bookshop, the apothecary shop is next store." Drina replied, lowering her voice to a whispered that nevertheless carried through the narrow confines of the shop. From her place on the ladder she was finally able to look down on Vanessa. "Or have you purchased their entire supply of Royal Manchurian Ginseng?"
Royal Manchurian Ginseng was the principle ingredient in a Stimulating Potion. It was an old and tired joke that dull and unattractive wizards and witches needed it to get laid.
To her credit, Vanessa did not flush, but glared. She reached up and plucked the book from Drina's grasp. "Celtic Runes and Spellcasting: A New Analysis by Catreus Marvolo. I wasn't aware that you were taking NEWT level Ancient Runes."
"I'm not," Drina said as she took the book back. "This is a gift for a friend."
"McKinnon prefers divination," Vanessa drawled. "Wouldn't she enjoy something with loads of pictures of soggy tea leaves for her to squint at?"
"Meg's birthday is in August," the brunette corrected automatically. "This is for someone else."
"Catreus Marvolo, wasn't he Tom's grandfather?" Vanessa asked, having determined just who that someone was by simple process of elimination. Slytherins seldom socialized with those of other houses.
"Your powers of observation astound me." Drina climbed down the last few rungs of the ladder. She would have handed on Vanessa's toes, but the other girl moved her feet out of the way in time.
"When is Tom's birthday?" Vanessa demanded.
"He's your boyfriend, don't you know?" She asked sweetly as she moved past Vanessa and slid the book across the counter toward the wizard behind the till. He followed their conversation with his eyes.
Vanessa frowned at her. It was not her most becoming expression and she knew it. "Yes, Drina, I'm his girlfriend."
"And I'm his friend. You don't have a monopoly on his life."
"I want to throw him a party." It was amazing that someone who so long ago abandoned innocence could appear to be six years old, even for a moment, but the red haired girl managed. She even echoed the whinge of a child demanding sweets perfectly.
"Somehow I doubt he would appreciate that."
"Nonsense," Vanessa said as she flicked a stray streamer of red hair back behind her ear. "Everyone loves a party."
"It's also his mother's death day," she reminded her quietly.
"All the better to provide him a distraction."
"If it were me…"
Vanessa shot her an amused look. "If it were your mother, you'd be celebrating."
Drina opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it again. Much as she hated to admit it, Vanessa was right: she would not mourn but celebrate her mother's passing. However, Tom Riddle seemed to love the mother he'd never known.
"Seven galleons, Miss," the sales wizard asked, sensing a lull in the argument and holding out his hand. Drina fished the required coins from her purse. When she sought Vanessa out again, the other witch was gone.
"Damn," she muttered to herself. Now she had the unenviable choice of playing dumb and risking Vanessa letting slip the source of her information or warning Tom.
"I might as well be caught between Scylla and Charybdis," she grumbled to herself as she left the shop to collect Meg, letting the door slam shut behind her.
* * *
On the morning of Tom's birthday, Drina slipped a brown paper wrapped parcel into her book bag before she went down to breakfast. Meg – well briefed and consulted as to the situation - kept her ears tuned to her fellow Slytherins while her eyes remained fixed on an article regarding the situation on the Continent.
"444 British Bombers attacked Berlin yesterday," Meg informed her as she sat down.
"Lovely, could you please pass the pumpkin juice," Drina said. "Thank you."
"Did you hear?" Tom asked with a strange excitement in his voice that distracted her from her plan of action. "Two Aurors were killed last night."
"Three were killed last week," countered Drina. She wondered what it was about the news that ignited Tom.
Something of her thoughts must have shown in her face because Tom leaned forward, his voice slipping easily into a conspiratorial whisper. "But these were no greenhorns like the others; and the bodies were found near the Ministry itself. There is talk among the professors that Dumbledore may be recalled as an Auror to help fill the void left by all the recent losses."
Drina raised an eyebrow, and turned to observe the staff table. Professor Dippet appeared strained and pale, not quite as bad as the previous term when Myrtle Jacobs died, but close. Dumbledore himself was not present. Drina was of two minds about him: on the one hand he could be very annoying and was Head of Gryffindor; but he was also a master of Transfiguration - her favourite subject - and many other, more subtle magics. It would not be easy to replace him and she did not wish to see some twit she remembered as a student teaching the class.
She slid a hand in her bag and pulled out the book. It made a soft thud as she set it on the table.
"Happy Birthday," she said, her mind still weighing the pros and cons of school without Dumbledore.
Tom raised an eyebrow but made no move to open the gift.
"Are you going to open it or just admire my brilliant wrapping job?"
Tom untied the green yarn bow and sought out the seams of the paper with his long fingers. Had it been Drina given a gift, she would have ripped the paper off.
"This is by Catreus Marvolo," an awed Tom said. He gently brushed the pads of his fingers over his grandfather's name. It suddenly occurred to her that the book was his first genuine contact with his ancestor. "Thank you Drina."
She smiled at him. "You're welcome."
Her smile waned as she considered how to warn Tom without being specific enough to incite Vanessa's wrath.
Tom noted her expression. "What is wrong?"
She tapped the book and nodded at the vacant seat usually occupied by Vanessa. Tom's eyebrows knitted together, puzzled.
"I'm not party to anything," Drina said, stressing the word slightly.
"Oh?" Tom asked, his eyes darkening with anger. "When is the prefect meeting tonight?"
Both knew there was not one scheduled until next week. "Seven o'clock."
"Thank you Miss Prewitt," Tom answered, rising from his seat and sliding the book into his bag. "There is something I must clarify with Vanessa."
When he had left, Meg studied her friend over the top of the paper. "Will Vanessa figure out you alerted him?"
Drina shook her head. "If she asks, I plan to blame certain indiscrete fourth years."
Meg smirked: two of the fourth year girls were Vanessa's cousins.
* * *
Drina noticed straightaway that Tom and Vanessa did not sit together in History of Magic or Herbology.
After only five minutes, Professor Spade – the head of Ravenclaw – was summoned from class to deal with a hysterical first year. She left Drina and Tom in charge. Tom focused on his own plant to the exclusion of all else and Drina only bothered with discipline when someone she disliked was involved.
After all, she thought, what is the point of being Head Girl if I can't abuse the power every now and again.
"Fly in the ointment Rosier?" chirped Ravenclaw Celia Cheltenham who had never forgiven Vanessa for first playing with, then discarding, her older brother. "Or are you being investigated for prostitution? Wait that requires payment for services rendered..."
"Maybe you should start..." Celia's partner Justin Winchester added. Justin had been one of Vanessa's early conquests - before he determined that his preferences resided largely within his own gender.
With males Vanessa would be subtle, but with her own kind she had the effect of fingernails dragged slowly across a chalkboard. Meg and Drina enjoyed watching other witches annoy Vanessa; both agreed that sooner or later one would scoop our her innards with a spoon - Meg often voiced her preference that the spoon be silver and embossed with the Rosier family crest. Drina was less discriminating though she felt Meg's idea held artistic merit.
"Sod off," Vanessa snarled back. When undefended by her fellow serpents, Vanessa was fair game to all comers. She was not very effective: every girl at school knew that this was one Slytherin whose bite was less toxic than her bark. She was also predictable: even some Hufflepuffs could determine her next move.
"Or what," retorted the Ravenclaw, "you'll sic your pet owl on me?"
"I would never subject my own owl to such an indignity," Vanessa retorted.
"She sounds depressed to me," noted Meg gleefully. "Life not treating you as you feel it ought?"
Vanessa glared at her.
"Perhaps she needs a song," Celia suggested. "Pity I can't sing well enough to lift your broken spirits."
"How about this," Meg offered. Vanessa detested Muggle music so Meg took every opportunity to serenade her with it.
"Here I go again;
I hear those trumpets blow again;
All aglow again - taking a chance on love.
Here I slide again;
About to take that ride again;
Starry eyed again - taking a chance on love.
I thought the cards were a frame-up
I never would try.
But now I'm taking the game up
And the ace of hearts is high.
Things are mending now;
I see a rainbow blending now;
We'll have our happy ending now
Taking a chance on love."
The rest of the class clapped as Meg stood and took a bow. Vanessa leaned over her work, allowing her long hair to form a curtain around her face.
"You even managed to sing that on key," Drina noted, impressed. Her own singing ability usually inspired people to be elsewhere or conjure earmuffs.
Meg focused on Vanessa. "She'll try to get me back. Public humiliation demands retribution – but it was fun!"
Drina shrugged. "Indeed, subtlety thy name is not Vanessa."
* * *
A few days later Drina entered her old dormitory in search of Meg's History of Magic notes and found Vanessa propped up against the pillows on her bed going through a rather unrealistic stack of flash cards. It surprised her to realize that her usually work-shy classmate was actually attempting to learn German.
"Zauberstab. Wand." The card turned a vibrant violet never intended by nature; reverting back to green only after Vanessa corrected her pronunciation.
"Family on the Continent?" Drina asked as she shuffled through Meg's things. Meg did not date her notes, simply tossing them in piles. Usually the more recent notes were near the top, but there was a test coming up and in revising for it all her notes were out of order. At least she knew the pages she sought were decorated with little drawings of a witch who looked remarkably like Vanessa on a rack. Meg tended to illustrate her notes and she wasn't a bad artist – certainly better than Drina herself. Even stick figures eluded her.
"My third cousin Edgar married into a German family. I can never pronounce their name," Vanessa said calmly, breaking Drina's train of thought. She did not look up from her cards. "Terry, however, has loads of cousins in Germany. He says he wants to take me there on our wedding trip."
The other girl paused. This was very fast, even for Vanessa. "Wedding trip?" Drina repeated. "Terry? I thought you and Tom…"
The red head waved her hand dismissively. "A passing fancy, nothing more. Terry's intentions are very honourable towards me."
"Ah, so you and Terry are back together again." No wonder she's speaking to me again, Drina thought. Terry and I are second cousins once removed through his mother. Don't want to offend future in-laws too badly – especially the wealthy ones.
Vanessa smirked at Drina over her cards. She did not so much talk as insult or brag to other witches. "Plan on setting your sights on Tom now that he's free? I don't blame you Drina, he's attractive and rather… skilled."
The Head Girl felt best not to respond, preferring to shuffle through Meg's papers at a somewhat faster rate. After an embarrassing incident last year involving a truth potion, Vanessa knew she was a virgin. Drina did not hold to Victorian notions of virtue; she simply had yet to be sufficiently interested in anyone. Most of the time, romance seemed a distraction and bother.
"Of course he is rather poor," Vanessa continued.
"Unlike some," Drina replied sweetly, "I don't need a wealthy husband. I have my own fortune." If Vanessa was willing to open that particular door then who was she to slam it shut without poking around a little.
Today however, jibes at her family's finances appeared to slide right off Vanessa. "Tom was naught but a pleasant memory."
"And a smile on your face Terry will never quite understand."
Again, Vanessa displayed her prowess at selective hearing. "His prospects are better than Toms, HeadBoy though he may be."
"In other words, all looks and galleons but no brains," Meg cut in from the doorway. Her arms were laden with a tall stack of library books that she unceremoniously dumped on her bed.
"A bit late to bother about your education," the brunette said, noting the flash cards in the other witch's hands.
"I'm learning German," Vanessa said as she picked up a new card - schwachsinnig. She took a leaf from Drina's book and made her voice sweet as honey and thrice as sticky. "So that when the Germans crush the Axis, I'll be able to converse with Britain's new Muggle rulers."
Meg's brown curls shook with laughter. "Even your insults betray your ignorance. The Germans are part of the Axis powers. Britain is part of the Allies."
Vanessa glared at her for a moment, then laughed. "I believe that you are simply jealous."
Meg startled. "Why would I be jealous of you?"
"I have a boyfriend."
"Another one?" Meg rolled her eyes. "You go through wizards faster than most Hufflepuffs change their socks."
"It's Terry Nott again." Drina informed her friend before Vanessa could say anything.
"I'll offer him my condolences later," Meg said promptly.
"You," Vanessa drawled, "are simply jealous that I have a boyfriend."
Meg shot her an amused look. "I have a boyfriend as well. And he's a lot better than Terry Nott!"
This was news to both Drina and Vanessa. Drina stopped shuffling papers and Vanessa put down her flash cards. Meg did not often admit to involvement with a particular male – she believed that ones personal relationships were no one else's business. Part of the reason she so disproved of Vanessa was her eagerness to flaunt her conquests.
"Who?" Drina demanded. She steeled herself to be stunned. Meg must be involved with someone very impressive.
Meg smirked as she summoned her hairbrush off the top of her dresser and ran it through her thick brown curls. "Edmund Malfoy."
Vanessa had the expression of one who has just swallowed a porcupine. Drina, however, was very impressed. Edmund Malfoy had discriminating tastes – he'd been one of the few to make it plain to Vanessa that he considered her unworthy of his time.
"You're lying," Vanessa sputtered. That her half-blood housemate succeeded where she had failed obviously rankled, which explained to Drina why Meg breached her own boyfriend policy.
"Am I?" Meg purred. "Go ask Edmund."
After Vanessa stormed out a moment later, Drina asked, "I take it that Edmund is a new development?"
"Very new," Meg confirmed.
"But a Malfoy…" Drina shook her head. "That lot is rabid about purity of blood."
Meg shrugged. "We're seventeen and neither of us are seeking a marriage partner right now. Besides Edmund is a younger son, his inheritance comes from his Mum's family. His father can't cut him off for dating me so Edmund feels freer to explore his options than he might otherwise."
Drina was dying to know the veracity of a certain rumour she'd heard about the Malfoy men. "Is it true, what they say about Malfoys…"
Meg coloured a little. "In general or Edmund in particular? I think the Malfoys in general earned their reputation as poor lovers because their personality so repelled so many potential partners! Edmund, however, is another story."
"Oh?"
Her lips quirked. "He takes after his mum's family."
* * *
A few hours later when Drina returned Meg's notes to her, she found Vanessa was still at her flash cards though she seemed to be going through them at a somewhat faster pace than before.
When she re-entered the common room, she found Tom seated on the couch reading the book she gave him for his birthday.
Drina meant to take one of the chairs by the fire, but Tom called out to her as she watched by him.
"Why don't you sit here?" Tom asked, gesturing to the empty space on the couch next to him.
It seemed a reasonable request – and she did enjoy talking to him. Perhaps she'd even be able to glean a little more information about him. She didn't yet want all the answers – it was the pursuit rather than the revelation that interested her. She sat down on the other end of the couch.
"I appreciate your warning about the 'prefect meeting,'" he said, offering her a vibrant smile that put her on edge. She recognized it as his seductive smile – she'd seen it before, but never directed at her. The smile and what lay behind it put her off balance.
"Forewarned is forearmed," Drina shrugged, carefully looking just above his eyes. There was something in his gaze that was too warm for comfort.
"Indeed," he said as he smiled at her again, making Drina very aware of his sudden availability. It took all of her willpower not to blush. She'd known him for seven years, why only now was she feeling like this?
"Have you ever seen the Encirclement spell in print?" Tom asked, turning the book in her direction. After a moment, he moved closer, presumably to facilitate her reading.
She knew what he was doing, but could not refrain from reading the section he indicated. The Encirclement spell was barred from appearing in print since 1898. Books already in print were exempt.
When she looked up from the page, she was surprised by how close he was now sitting to her on the couch. He leaned over to point out a detail of the spell. His eyes met hers, their faces were just inches apart and for a moment Drina was certain he was going to kiss her. What surprised her was that she wanted him to. Close as they were, she could smell the lingering traces of the rosemary and mint potion he used to clean his hair.
Though she had yet to cross the line most used to differentiate innocence from experience, Drina was far from being unsullied. Her stepfather had seen to that. She was always careful to clamp down on those memories, nightmarish moments before her cousin intervened and took her to live with him, memories that tainted every physical encounter. She might have experimented with boys in her fourth and fifth years, but that was born more of a need to replace old memories than genuine desire. No one had ever made her feel what she'd observed in others – except now, for Tom – and it made her very uncomfortable. She couldn't help but wonder when the faintly sick dizziness that trailed her other attempts at romance would set in.
She also wondered if this would be the time the dizziness wouldn't come. It was an exhilarating and terrifying thought. The sheer potential of the moment made her feel as though she were drowning.
She had to leave. She mumbled a vague excuse, the words tumbled into each other and she hated her lapse of dignity. She revealed far too much to Tom in that moment, but there was no help for it.
"Yes it is," Tom said, amused, drawing back. "Another time, perhaps."
"Yes, another time," Drina replied as she stood up. She managed to walk to her room at a normal pace. I will not act like a giddy little Gryffindor, I will not act like a giddy little Gryffindor, she told herself firmly. It seemed much easier said than done.
Sleep evaded her that night, and as she tossed and turned in her bed, her father's words about love and rationality echoed in her mind. She was not in love with Tom, but feared she was on a path that could lead to that outcome.
