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They met again the next night on the lake, and the night after. They never said much, they mostly sat and stared out at the water. Like the meetings in the library, this continued on for a few weeks, until one particular night.

Tom thought that the moon was shining exceptionally bright, and its luminous glow on her hair was intoxicating. He looked into her eyes, and she looked back. He knew she was trying to see deeper into him than he allowed her to, but he could not let her. He wanted no person to see into him any further than what he himself allowed them to.

Seized by that invisible force, his lips found hers, and in a show of passion, they stayed there for a few moments before she finally pulled away. Her breathing was shallow and he was surprised to find that so was his own. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked at her.

She stared back, and putting her hand through his black hair, she pulled him into another kiss. When it was finished, they lay back and stared at the moon for awhile. As usual, he held her hand until she finally rose and with a simple, "Good night," she was gone.

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He saw her at breakfast. When she sat down across the Great Hall, she smiled at him, and he gave her his own grin in return. He then quickly dropped his eyes to his own plate. He did not want to be suspicious. Slytherins and Ravenclaws were not to be seen smiling at each other.

He glanced quickly up at the professors' table, and he saw Dumbledore's eyes on him. Anger flared up in Tom's chest at the sight of the old Transfiguration professor. Tom hoped that Dumbledore had not seen the earlier exchange, but something told Tom that he had.

Dumbledore possessed the kind of power that Tom had spent years trying to learn. Tom knew how closely the man watched him, especially after the Hagrid incident. Tom hated the feeling of powerlessness when he was around Dumbledore. Tom hated that Dumbledore was always interfering.

Tom finished his breakfast and the day wore on. He entered Transfiguration that afternoon, and observed her, laughing as usual with her friends, only a few glances directed his way. He knew that there was something inside of her that feared him. He knew that there was some part of her that would not tell her group of friends about him.

The class passed, and as the bell signaled the end of class, Dumbledore called her up to his desk. Normally Tom would have waited and held the door open for her, but it was clear that Dumbledore wanted a private conversation, and so Tom was forced to leave, but he lingered outside the classroom door that he left open just a crack. No more than a sliver. Dumbledore may have been sucessful at seeing into one's mind, but Tom knew that the man possessed no magical eyes. He would not be able to sense Tom's ligering presence outside of the door.

Dumbledore was speaking to her, "I know that this is out of place, but I wish to express my concerns about your new friend."

Fury rose in Tom like a biting snake. Dumbledore was not even the head of Ravenclaw house. The old man had no place in speaking to her.

"I'm afraid that I do not understand, Professor."

"I trust you know," Dumbledore's words were measured, calculated, "of Tom Riddle's powers."

"He's brilliant."

"You are one of the most intelligent young women that has ever passed through my classroom, and I know that you have good judgement."

"I fail to see where you are going with this, Professor."

"I do not want to see you get hurt."

"I trust Tom."

These words stirred something in Tom. It was not the first time that he had pondered it, but he had often put it out of his mind for her sake. Full and complete trust could become a valuable entity to Tom.

"A relationship with Tom Riddle could be a fatal one," said Dumbledore.

Tom wanted nothing more than to rage and scream at the man. He had no right to plant seeds of doubt in her heart and mind. He had no right to even have this conversation with her.

"I'm afraid that I still do not understand, Professor. But I do know that I care for him greatly."

"You will do as you will. I am simply urging caution."

"Thank you, Professor." Tom was glad to hear the icy tone behind her words.

Sensing that their conversation was over, Tom sprinted down the corner and then glanced around the corner as she exited the door. He saw her lean back against the wall and take a deep breath. She ran a hand through her long hair and he was surprised to see a small tear fall down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly and began to walk down the hall.

He walked quickly to catch up with her, and from behind, he grabbed her hand. She jumped in shock and surprise. She allowed him to keep her hand, and they walked in silence.

"Are you ok?" He asked, trying to sound as kind as possible.

"Fine," she said shortly. She did not look at him as they continued to walk.

He finally pulled her into a semi-dark corner and pushed her up against the wall. Tenderly, he kissed her, but she pushed him away.

"Tom -" He continued to try and kiss her. "Tom, don't."

"Shhh," he hissed into her ear, but she continued to push him away. Not wanting it to go this way, he continued in his attempts to induce passion in her, but she continued to push him away. It was as though that same force had seized him again, and he grabbed her wrists, a little too tightly, and held them down as he kissed her hard.

It was then that he felt the hard contact of a fist on the side of his face. Blood instantly gushed from his nose as he stumbled to the floor. He glanced up and saw a tall sixth year Gryffindor standing above him. The boy kicked Tom in the stomach, and Tom once again fell to the floor.

Tom tried to rise, but the other boy pulled out his wand and pointed it at Tom. "Don't you dare get up, you sick bastard," he said.

Tom glared up at him, and then shifted his gaze to her. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and without saying anything, she turned and ran down the hall. Tom returned his gaze to the Gryffindor. It was Charlus Potter. Tom did not know much about him, except that the family was a bunch of traitors to the purebloods.

After a few more moments, Potter, his wand still pointing at Tom, kicked him once more in the face, and Tom felt himself collapse, blood gushing into his eyes. He could see nothing, but he could hear Potter's footsteps as they echoed down the stone hall and out of sight. Tom Riddle resolved to never again rest until he had caused as much pain to Charlus Potter as he could, and all of Potter's family as well.

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