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More and more it seemed as though Tom's thoughts were filled with her. He wrote briefly about her in his diary, but he chose not to go into great detail. There was something deep inside of Tom that told him that this diary would become his future, and he was measured in what he wrote inside of the pages.
Tom made it his business to know everything about her, and she surprised him. Her grades were exceptional, but that was not a surprise to Tom, he knew that she was intelligent from class. It was her past that came as a shock to Tom. It was so similar to his own, full of loveless homes and a life of loneliness and fear.
He was intrigued by her. The way that she laughed at meals with her friends, the line of her arm when she raised it in class, and the kindness with which she treated all. Tom had never been a believer in compassion, and he was never fully convinced of it, but she made a case for it.
She was always kind to others. Even to Slytherins who scorned her and branded her with their fiery-tongued title of 'mudblood,' she remained empathetic. Tom was intrigued by her, and he was intrigued by their similarities. He himself never told his "friends" of his parentage, and he knew that they would never ask because of the power that he held over them.
She was a prefect as well. Tom was surprised at himself for never paying much attention before hand. He had always prided himself on knowing everything about those that he dealt with.
Tom felt restless that evening. He thought that perhaps he would go down to the library and find a book to read. He would sometimes go to the library and simply linger by the restricted section, soaking up the seductive power of the forbidden information on the pages. Tom ached for his sixth year, when he could finally enter into that new realm of power.
He walked like a ghost past the aisles, trying to feel something pull him to a book to read. Then he saw her. He could not believe that she was there. She sat at a small table doing homework under a small lamp. Tom smiled. He decided that he should simply go and say something, and so, he approached her table silently and reached out to touch her arm.
She jumped when she felt the touch. It had felt as though an electric shock had pulsed up her arm. She turned, and when she saw that it was Tom, she gave him a small smile.
"You scared me."
"So sorry," he said. "May I sit?"
She looked unsure for a moment, but then gestured for him to sit. He opened his book, and she returned to her studying, the light from the lamp flickering across her face. He pretended to read, but watched her instead.
Finally he spoke again, after some time of silence. "You laughed at what I said in potions."
She glanced up, giving him an odd look, "What?"
"In potions. The thing about the bezoar. You laughed."
She gave him an incredulous smile, as though she had never quite met anyone like him. "Well it was funny."
"It wasn't supposed to be."
She gave him an odd look, "Ok," she blinked, "sorry." She shook her head and returned to her work. He pretended to be engrossed in his reading, but he saw her glance up at him a few times.
"Don't be," he said after a moment.
She looked up, "Don't be what?"
"Don't be sorry. It's a waste of time."
"Yeah...I guess." She tried to concentrate on her book, but was finding it awfully difficult.
"I should go," Tom said. "I have to get my beauty rest."
She looked at him, giving him an odd look. He smirked a bit, "That was supposed to be funny."
He turned and walked out of the library, leaving her staring out after him, trying to figure out the riddle.
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Tom returned the next night, and she was there, at the same table, studying under the lamplight. Tom simply sat this time, not asking. She barely glanced up at him when he sat, and he tried to read her face, but she was keeping any emotion well-guarded.
Tom opened his book and began to read. Neither said a word to the other, and over an hour passed before Tom finally yawned. He stood, "Good night," he said to her.
She looked up at him for the first time that evening. "Night."
This same routine continued on for three weeks. Tom was never quite sure why he continued to come, or rather, why she did. One night though, he decided that he was tired of sitting in silence.
"Would you like to take a walk?" He asked her.
She glanced down at her half-finished homework, and then, looking at him intently, she nodded. She gathered her books, which he offered to carry. She objected at first, but eventually capitulated and allowed him to tug her books out of her arms.
It was beginning to get late, and the moon had risen high, shedding an eerie light on Hogwarts' grounds. Tom led her outside the giant doors leading into the castle, despite her objections about wandering school grounds when they were not supposed to.
They walked along the grounds, a small wind rustling the grass under their feet. Eventually, they found themselves by the lake, and they sat. She stared out at the disfigured moon that reflected in the rippling water. Tom looked out as well, and as though seized by some force, he reached out and laced his fingers through her hand.
She looked at him surprised, but she did not object. Instead, she allowed him to keep his hand there, and together they sat, looking out at the calming waters for a long while.
After many minutes had passed, she stood suddenly, "It's getting late."
"Don't go," he said.
She looked at his handsome face, and his eyes, and she did not want to go, but she broke the connection of their hands and grabbed her books. She began to walk back up the grassy slope to the school, and he watched her go, but not without shouting to her, "Meet me again!"
She turned slowly and looked at him. She did not speak, and thought for a moment. Giving him a small nod, she turned again and returned to the dark castle.
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A/N: More to come soon, feedback is always most appreciated!