A/N: sigh So much to say. First and foremost a big thanks to every single reviewer. My readers must be the best, I love you guys, Thanks! ;) Secondly, I've worked in pre-schools and no toddler I have ever encountered has ever given me as much trouble as this story. This chapter in particular showed me exactly what 'Tough love' really means. I had to re-write it over and over and over again. If it still isn't up to par feel free to tell me. I am truly sorry it took so long, you haven't a clue. Btw, I lied (not on purpose I assure you). There'll be one more chapter after this and then an epilogue. ;)
Also, Dear Lidell: Hi! Thanks for your lengthy response, it was genuinely helpful and had the intention of trying to be so, so for that I really must tell you it was much appreciated. However, I'm not quite sure what you mean by 'Lydia hasn't shown her vanity'. Pride comes in many others fashions than just staring at yourself in a mirror and loving what you see (which Lydia also did numerously). It can be allowing yourself to be terribly judgmental because you believe you're on a higher level than other people, or underestimating consequences that might come upon you because you have such belief in your own abilities. On that note, this chapter is definitely the breaking point of where Lydia's pride is going to get her in trouble. Hope you enjoy!
-Chalet
Chapter Nine: Addicted
When classes resumed they did so with great vengeance. For three straight weeks I was bogged down so heavily with N.E.W.T. work I could barely move, most nights opting to set up an entire fort of books around me and setting to study. This took me straight into the middle of March before I even had time to think on personal matters. That certainly was saying something as my 'personal matters' were not the normal menstrual cycle or emotional roller coaster every girl in my year also faced. No, I had much more troubling affairs at hand. What were Tom Riddle's motives and how could I relay them to Dumbledore?
The latter issue proved particularly troublesome. The more I thought about the conclusion I had drawn, the more I found myself in the middle of a self inflicted ping-pong match. True, I was obviously leaning more towards turning Tom in. But somewhere along the course of the last six months Tom had gotten to me rather more than I had previously imagined. So much more in fact that my thoughts of just keeping quiet and trusting him were more than fleeting. It was incredibly uncharacteristic for someone such as myself to choose nurture (meaning romance) over nature (meaning the instinct that told me to run away from Tom). However, in some lights, it really wasn't. Too long had it been since I was a naïve toddler and had felt raw emotion for people that wasn't contaminated by protective walls, fear and harsh judgment. For a few fleeting moments I had had something real with Tom and I had felt…well far away from the independent and restless girl I had grown to be. I was simply clinging to what I had been given; even if what I had been given was lies.
And were they lies? Did Tom have feelings for me as I had thought? Or had he been using me for something he considered bigger than love?
The rationale in me knew the answer to this almost immediately, but the affection I felt for him had to go and turn every clear cut answer into a murky mess of emotional denial. Perhaps he hadbeen using me, but I wanted to think otherwise. Being the conceited and pampered princess I was, it was rather easy to keep on believing. After all, wasn't it entirely likely that he had accidentally fallen for me as I had for him? Couldn't have been that hard, really, look at me.
This mental wrestling over what I really wanted to do caused another two weeks or so to slip through my fingers. By then April had set in. You may ask what I did with Tom for a whole month. Well, school work was an issue for both of us and he seemed even more wrapped up than I was. Surely every time I looked over at him I found him nose deep in thick, ancient looking texts. Some nights he would go missing for reasons I did not want to think about. Every morning after I would wake, praying no one else had died because I had kept my mouth shut. I had never regarded myself as a coward, but love certainly was making a fool of me.
There was that treacherous word again. Did I love Tom? Really love him, despite what in knew? I thought-sometimes-there was no other name for what I felt. I stared at him often, pondered on him even more, lamented our long gone visits to the prefect's bath and wondered desperately how he felt about me behind all the mistruths. As the spring rain set in, my dueling thoughts often betrayed me and turned to curling up with Tom in his dorm.
And then there was the dark magic.
I saw him studying it constantly and knew it was consuming every part of his being. Sometimes I felt jealous of his books. They were so dear to him and he held them in such high regard it seemed I could sink no lower on his priority list. Other times though, I was jealous of Tom. All that power and all those spells. All the unexplored territory, all the possibilities.
Mind reading, control over objects, control over humans, apparition. One evening I was scanning his latest titles as he'd just come back from the library and noticed something interesting. It was a book called Illusionment of the Intellect: A Guide to the Physical Psyche. I had seen the book before with him over Christmas break when he'd come to my house. Why was it back again?
I didn't bother to ask, but merely grabbed it from his mountainous pile, which rivaled my own, on my way to bed one night. With his back hunched over and his nose all but Eskimo kissing his book, Tom took no notice of my larceny what so ever and I traipsed away to my dorm before he could get the chance.
"Lumos," I murmured, dropping heavily onto my bed and pulling the curtains all around me. The very first thing I did was scan the book's table of contents.
'Chapter One: Psychology, A Lost Art' went on for just under two-hundred-fifty pages within itself. All in all the sum of pages came to 2,169 or at least that was the last numbered page I could find. Scanning downward, I observed other chapter titles:
Chapter Two: Nature of the Mind, Instinctive Tendencies
Chapter Three: The Mind at Rest, Sleep Patterns and Brain Waves
Chapter Four: Layers of the Brain
Chapter Five: Deciphering the Subconscious
Chapter Six: Controlling the Subconscious
I sat there, stunned and terrified. My memory recollection dreams hadn't been my subconscious trying to work itself out, it had been Tom trying to work my subconscious out. My memories, my thoughts, my fears, my past, the reasons for my behaviors. Just as well, he hadn't just been using the Imperius Curse on me, but swaying influence over my subconscious and gripping a hold of all my other senses in order to dull them. But the question still remained: Why?
As horrified as I was to come to this realization, I couldn't help but be somewhat impressed. That was awfully advanced magic for a sixteen-year-old. However, this was the very last bit of news I could handle. Promptly I rose from my bed, nearly tripped on my bed curtains on my way out and made my nimble way down the stairs.
'I'm not running,' I told myself, reassuringly, 'I'm…jogging with style.'
Five seconds short of the common room I stopped to catch my breath as I was a bit smarter than to draw attention to myself by storming out of the common room in a pant. Confident that my heart and lung contraction rate were both under control I set off as noiselessly as I could. I didn't look anyone in the eye, setting my sights on the dungeon door not twenty-five feet away. I could just slip through there easy as pie, no harm done, take a stroll, go to the library, turn in the school's serial killer and possibly wash my hands on the way back.
Even after I left the common room, I was jumpy as anything. The slightest sound, suits of armor creaking, rats squeaking, spiders scuttling, the wind groaning against dungeon chains in far off corners, torches flickering, I thought I saw a few shadows out of the corner of my eyes and whirled around each time to check that Tom had not followed, for surely it would be my neck if he discovered my intentions. There once was a time when this never would have bothered me. I would have laughed and invited the challenge. Let the mudblood just try and see how he measured up to a perfect, pure-blooded pedigree. Grimly, I could not boast this assurance any longer. I knew what Tom was capable of and I wouldn't allow him the luxury of underestimation again.
With a sigh of extreme relief I rose up into the clear light of the high chandelier in the Entrance Hall. Not being able to help myself, I turned my back on the light for a moment and inspected the dark, damp corridor I had just left. I waited in wide-pupilled silence as though expecting something to jump out at any moment. The grip I had been strangling my wand with relieved. With a shaky mind I finally accepted that Tom hadn't followed me and turned back around.
What had I been so paranoid about anyways? What was he going to do, demand his book back? I knew his weapons now, I would resist the drowsy pull he'd always blanketed over me. But what was I saying, I wouldn't need to, he wasn't coming.
He wasn't coming…Why wasn't he coming? Odd really, and him being so observant. He didn't have his prefect's badge for nothing.
Just outside of the library, I was about to drop off the book in my hands when I took a last look at the cover.
'No, I think I'll show it to Dumbledore. It is my greatest evidence after all.' Nodding in resolve I turned back to find the Transfiguration classroom I knew so well. 'Hope he's not asleep, the great buffoon…' I sighed as I hurried up a few steps, the disdainful thoughts more for my own distraction than real dislike.
I had barely set half a foot on the last step when a hard gasp reached my lungs and they contracted too fast for all the air coming in, causing me to falter. No worries, the object of my surprise caught me round the neck and threw me to safety on the carpeted landing. The heavy book in my hands fell to the ground as I barely attained my balance, coughing desperately.
Tom made no move for me but picked up his book instead. He could have easily crushed my wind pipe…but somehow, I think he already knew that.
"Really Lydie, you ought to treat library possessions with greater care." he smirked, dusting off the cover.
"I'll try next time." I choked gruffly, standing and staggering a few deep breaths. I was fine within seconds, if not in shock. I didn't have the luxury to be in a shock at the moment though, I needed to focus on playing my cards right and getting away from him as soon as possible.
"Good. Why are you out of the dungeons so late anyway?"
"Are we back to that again?" I asked, a flirtatious smile my only weapon as I playfully brought up past events. Perhaps I could charm him into leaving me alone. If it had been any other person my abilities wouldn't have been doubted for a second but this wasn't just any other person. This man had proved himself more than my equal.
"I'm afraid we are and I'm afraid you'll need to tell me what you're up to." he said softly. Gingerly I neared him closer still and stood on tip toe, my fingers playing with his robes.
"Why, seducing you of course, my Lord." I whispered the last bit for effect and I dare say for a moment or two it worked better than even I thought it was going to, given the cliché and hokey state of my words. At the mention of his nick-name however, I received a hungry kiss that I can't say I didn't enjoy on some level. But then, without warning, I was pushed back against the wall. We stood surveying one another for a few moments before his gaze dropped. His long, white fingers slithered up and encircled my neck, his thumb gingerly caressing my Adam's apple. No true grip was enforced but the threat was there, not only of being strangled but of my emotions getting the best of me. The more he touched me, the deeper an imprint of desire he was leaving on me. I was disgusted with myself for feelings I couldn't help.
"Tell me the truth Lydie." he murmured. Again, Tom conjured his ally, my subconscious, in a silent request to give in. My eyelids fought desperately to stay up and the struggle was so great I was regarding fatigue as a great and looming enemy.
"Returning a book to the li"- my voice was lost for a moment as Tom increased the pressure with which he was caressing my throat. It had hurt and that had helped somewhat in keeping me awake. "To the library."
"You were returning my book to the library, were you? You're a long way from the library little girl." he sneered. But he had given me an idea.
"Well I was turning back. You see I realized it wasn't one of mine and that's why I was bringing it back but then, just before I could drop it in the little slot, it fell and flipped open and I saw your name there, so I started back."
"You saw my name on the check-out list card?" he drawled, unimpressed. Apparently by 'my book' he'd been referring to the fact that he'd been the one to check it out. I didn't answer. "I thought as much when you rushed from the common room with the very book I had noticed you steal from my table."
Finally he took his hand away. Still I remained mute.
"Stunned silence is this?" he mocked me. "What are you really up to? You might as well tell me, don't forget I'm a prefect. All I've got to do is take you to Professor Sator."
"What are you threatening me now?" I asked in a tone that was half hurt and half suggested in would have liked to seem him try. I definitely didn't want to see him try.
"If that need be the course of action, yes, I am."
"Well, take your book then and leave me alone." I started off down the hall, determined now more than ever to get to Professor Dumbledore. I very greatly expected a spell of some sort to force me into staying so he could black mail my mouth shut. And in a way that's exactly what I got.
"You're interested in it, aren't you? That's why you took that book." He'd always been able to get the best of me. Call out that last bit of temptation that would undoubtedly keep me hanging around just a little longer. I couldn't fake as though I didn't know what he meant, especially if he was judging from my actions of stealing a book about the Dark Arts. I felt the heavy weight of disappointment in myself settle onto my shoulders as my footsteps stopped. Turning, I saw the cold intrigue in his striking emerald eyes. It was plain then that I had started to run too late, Tom had already assembled a great arsenal of ammunition to use against me, he already knew my weaknesses, my fears and my ambitions.
Knowing this I should have just plucked on. I should have been stronger and just turned back around. But which had a greater pull to a girl such as myself? Being a stool pigeon or mastering the Dark Arts? Three guesses and the first two don't count.
"What can you show me?" I was quieter than I could remember having ever been before, so unsure of the ground I was treading. And yet a great thrill of greed was pumping in my veins as though I knew there would come into me something so terrible and powerful that nothing else seemed to matter.
"Everything. Anything you'd like my dearest Lydie. But first, I'll need to establish full trust in you."
This seemed to snap me out of my daze.
"How am I supposed to prove it?"
"Come back with me to the Study"-
"No." my answer was instant and issued an air of finality. He only smiled as though a patient parent dealing with a stubborn child. He would have his way, he knew, all in good time.
"The Study is the least of your worries." he said kindly, "It is only that what you'll be learning isn't…how shall I put this-very widely socially accepted. But that doesn't seem to have ever stopped you before." he leered, mocking our very relationship.
I thought for what seemed like at least ten minutes on the subject. The Dark Arts was something I had always lusted after and not long ago it seemed I would have been prepared to pay a fair price for the least of tutors, let alone Tom. And though I was still incredibly afraid of his abilities, that fear came with a certain knowledge. I had reason to be afraid. He was rather clued-up on the subject and a very talented wizard to boot. Surely there was a great deal he could pass along to me.
In the back of my mind a tiny seed of wonderment in how far my own abilities might grow was planted. My vanity allowed me to actually think, for however small a time, that there may have been a chance that I would grow beyond even Tom's abilities. My own ambition would take me there and certainly once I'd gotten the handle on these Dark Arts there would be no stopping me. Perhaps I needn't even trouble myself with Dumbledore and the others. Perhaps I could sit tight and recoil my own defenses against Tom to wait for when the time was right.
I nodded solemnly. The feeling of getting into something so much bigger than myself overwhelmed me for a moment. Tom led me along and I followed obediently. The corridors were dimly lit in the face of only half a moon. Paintings which were hung around us dozed calmly, unaware of the evil that was making its swift way through out the castle. My mind reeled, knowing I shouldn't be in Tom's wake because wherever he was leading me wouldn't be worth it. And yet my footsteps didn't once falter. I had enough pride left in me to allow me to overestimate myself, as opposed to underestimating Riddle.
Again we reached the gargoyle and I descended first down the path of hidden stairs. Tom reached out for my shoulder but I smacked his hand away. He only laughed. It was terrible walking through the dark, the light of my wand never reaching far enough for my own liking. Many times the urge to reach behind me and grasp Tom's hand came and each time I fought it away. This wasn't easy. I still had feelings for the prefect who walked behind me, and these feelings, though combated with hatred and fear, were more than lingering.
Behind me Tom seemed rather cheerful, humming classical masterpieces to himself as we went. I could just picture the smug smile on his face and dearly wished things could have stayed the way they had been at Christmas.
"Just a bit further now," he craned his neck around my head to make note of how far we had come. And he was right, though I certainly had my doubts as our treading ended at a shadowed stone wall that blocked any further motion. Without much thought I lifted my arm and pressed a hand against the stone, hoping for it to give way and swing round in likeness to the Slytherin common room entrance. All I got in return was equal pressure exerted back onto my forearm and a tap on the shoulder from Tom before he asked me to give him some room. I felt stupid for having even tried. Was I the heir of Slytherin, no, that was Tom's gig.
"Next time, try hissing." he laughed, walking past me over the threshold. I rolled my eyes and gave his back a sarcastic smile. We took our usual seats, Tom in his wingback chair and I across him on the sofa. Once more the fireplace exploded into green flames and the room was cast in an emerald glow. Nagini made her excited way amidst his lap in no time, licking the air for a sign of food brought. In a second, Tom had conjured her a live rat and she left him in favor of chasing it around the room, her jaws snapping around its haunches every now and then. I had the distinct impression that she could have caught it within seconds if she had wanted to, but like Tom, his snake enjoyed torturing what was ultimately going to die anyways. Personally I didn't find it very charming to play with one's food, but then again, I wasn't a snake.
Tom stood and went to the bookshelves lining the walls. From there he summoned four, hard bound, exceedingly heavy books and magicked them into my lap. There was a great shrill shrieking off in the corner and it came to knowledge that Nagini had finally decided to allow her rat the mercy of death. Soon she was hoisting the rodent into her throat, whole. Absolutely charming.
"You'll be doing quite a bit of reading before any actual hands on exercises, of course." he explained. I nodded and began.
Tom's lessons were just as strenuous as any other class and it was occasionally very hard to appreciate his prep when I had so many other N.E.W.T. level classes to be concentrating on. But for the want in me I forced myself to stay up longer at nights to read the prescribed three chapters per week I was to finish for Tom. My schoolwork began to suffer. Not straight away, but eventually. For example, between finishing an essay for Mythology class on Avalon and reading up on petrification, I would instead manage my time towards the more demanding teacher: Tom. The next morning I would wake up with my head laying over open copies of books that wouldn't even be found in the restricted section of the Hogwarts school library. Soon I was rushing essays and lowering the standards I set for myself in order to complete my Dark Arts work. Tom made it very clear that it was important I keep up with what he gave me, that if I couldn't even handle a bit of studying I couldn't possibly think I was going to be able to conduct Dark Arts magic after leaving school. I believed him. More than that I used his words as extra drive to soak up all the extra-curricular material Tom saw fit. I was learning alarmingly fast and loved all I read about. It was all I had any more. Tom and I were estranged frequently thanks to studying and with no more friends and a tarnished name I longed for the times when I could shut myself up in my bed curtains and think about possibilities rather than reality. So, though I didn't enjoy taking orders from Riddle, it didn't make me slow down my education for a second. Or at least, my education in the Dark Arts. School was set on the back burner increasingly often and I received my fair share of worried looks from my professors. Still I plucked on, burning my eyes through one book after another. Tom was pleased and somewhere in me, I was glad for this. My original attraction to the boy remained by a delicate thread. A sort of hate/love balance of emotions, teetering more towards hate. The way I'd liked all of my relationships with everyone else before Tom. Funny that I'd come full circle through what I had thought to be salvation, only to end up right where I started.
Some nights, when I took my showers and everyone was already in their beds, quiet tears broke free from my eyes for no given reason. I knew what it was though: an emotional release because of the loss of control over my life, the deadly addiction I had grown to the Dark Arts, the loathing and fear I held for Tom, the fact that I had been brought low enough to fear a mud blood let alone anyone, but more than any of that, it was the fact that I had loved Tom and I still did. All that would ever pacify my emotions enough to get me to sleep was the memories Tom and I had created at my home and how I missed the times when everything had been easy and the boy I loved hadn't been a threat.
It was early June I believe (the days had begun to run together and I was starting to loose track of them) when I walked into the Great Hall and took my then usual seat with Tom and his friends. For about a month people had been staring at me and with good reason. My hair was limp and left unstyled, my make-up had been laying on my desk for weeks forgotten, my eyes had fashioned themselves a pair of dark circles and my clothes were scruffy as apposed to their usual neat, crisp demeanor.
This was a sharp contrast to the beauty queen who once walked the halls in my place. Where was Lydia Delatorre and what had Tom Riddle done with her? This new girl associated with mudbloods openly while her predecessor had been known for turning her nose up at the very mention of such filth. She was bedraggled to the likes of Moaning Myrtle Miser and yet hadn't there been a time when her only friends had been her wand and her mirror? She clung to odd looking books and stayed quiet during class, always hiding in the back; when just a few months ago this same girl had been the one paving a six year running reputation for herself by sitting near the front and casting out loud, exuberant comments and questions.
I didn't speak as I took my seat and ambled for some bread, listening intently to the hushed conversation in progress. It looked as though some kind of meeting was being held and they had failed to let me in on the motion. And though I hated myself for the thoughts, I couldn't suppress the feeling of being left out. After all I had never been left out of anything before in my life and besides, hadn't I already proved myself one of Tom's faithful? I'd even put up with being branded what he called a 'Death Eater', literally. Along the underside of my left arm pulsed a tattoo which still stung, even after having been in place for two weeks. It was a strange symbol but I knew it's meaning the moment I set eyes upon it. There was no mistaking that the gaunt skull from the mouth of which issued a snake symbolized Tom's most prized talent: being a parselmouth.
I'd screamed bloody murder during Tom's muttering of some sort of incantation when the image burned itself onto my skin, seemingly through the inside out. No one heard the screams. Only the ears residing within the chamber walls upon which my cries had echoed registered the sound, but of course Tom's followers did nothing. He had never told me it was going to be painful, all he'd said was that the tattoo was absolutely necessary if my lessons were to continue. Still foolishly holding out a bleak sort of hope that in the end I would use what Tom taught me against him, I had agreed.
Already I had advanced in my studying quite a lot and Tom began allowing me to practice Legilimency on the likes of Mulciber and Dolohov, though I got through their thick heads on the first try and was hence forth given Nott to work on. He proved something more difficult, but still, Tom apparently underestimated my abilities because I was flicking through his memories by the fifth go. Elle Rosier was the only member who I had yet to break the barriers of. Apparently Tom had realized what he was doing wrong and given Miss Rosier a few books on Occlumency to study before presenting me with her. Wise though his decision was, it wasn't Elle's mind I was trying to unlock. The things I needed were in Tom's mind alone and his were the thoughts I attempted to break everyday. Spare moments in class, in the common room, at meals, in the halls, anywhere.
Once or twice I was sure I'd felt a flicker of parseltongue in my ears but then again I had been imagining things more and more. My mind played daily tricks on me: shadows dancing, bugs crawling on the walls or my skin, footsteps, a presence over my shoulder. I was paranoid of everything and nothing at all. What did I really have to be afraid of anyway?
Perhaps myself. As I watched the group congregate, I recalled my Transfiguration lesson. We had received last week's tests back and it was my third 'F' in the last fortnight. Professor Dumbledore had pulled me aside to ask if I was alright, if there was anything I needed or wanted to share. His little impromptu conference had held me back from lunch (to no end as I hadn't told him anything) and the bells were ringing suddenly, signaling the end of dinner. Out of time, I made a mental note to talk to Tom that night in the common room about my worries.
"I don't know if I can do this anymore…" I admitted, my voice wrung with fatigue as I took a seat beside him in the common room. I had forced myself to finish all of my assignments before working up the courage to really say what I wanted to. I lamented in the fact that there had been a time when I never would have hesitated to wear my heart on my rolled up sleeves.
It was late, though I wasn't sure of the hour. Our shared dedication to workaholism allowed for us to also be sharing an empty common room. Tom clucked his tongue disapprovingly as he shifted some parchment around, "Giving up are we? Lydie you mustn't make your weaknesses so obvious my dear."
"I failed another test today; that makes three." I regarded him helplessly.
"Are you looking for study tips?" he asked cocking an uncaring eyebrow.
"I'm looking for mercy." I all but winced at the mellow drama in my words, sighing I tried again "You couldn't give me a break for…a week maybe?" I shrugged pathetically.
He chuckled maliciously and I felt the slow, sweeping sensation of a plan backfired sink onto my shoulders.
"I think you need more motivation my dear."
'No, I need for you to level with me and realize what you're doing to me.' he continued on, oblivious to my thoughts, or other wise completely aware and merely uncaring.
"Yes, a good essay is in order I believe. Three feet long I think should do the trick."
"Christ Tom, three pages? Why are you trying to kill me?" I griped, overwhelmed.
"I'm not trying to kill you." he chortled, amused.
"What then?" I snarled.
"If you want to quit so soon, go ahead. I'll just pop on down to Dippet's office tomorrow and tell him exactly how poor Amelia and Gregory died at your coldhearted hands." a nonchalant shrug fell from his shoulders as he turned a page in his textbook.
I shook my head in resentment and confusion.
"I understand, Tom, that you needed me to kill Gregory. And I understand that you had to turn me against Gregory in order to use me. And I also understand that you needed one less ally on his side and one more on yours to balance things out. But why did you make me fall in love with you?"
"Oh, Lydie, you fell in love quite of your own accord." he told me.
"And you didn't once feel the same way?" I asked in bitterly.
"Well now, I must admit I've enjoyed our little adventures quite a bit more than I thought I would. But this never had anything to do with Gregory." He smiled pleasantly. I really wished he'd stop doing that.
I narrowed my eyes, "What else could you possibly…" and then I remembered. The list in Tom's diary…he had added Gregory's name after we'd begun spending time together. This meant he couldn't have been aspiring to kill Gregory before he had seduced me. Tom leaned forward and looked me in the eyes.
"I wanted you, Lydia. Since we came back to school this year I'd been wondering how I could get enough strength in the Dark Arts to do everything that I'll need to accomplish later in life. It isn't very well going to be taught to me at Hogwarts. So, obviously, I would need to hone my abilities myself. Think of it as a cat sharpening their claws on a wooden post. Therefore, in order to sharpen these claws of mine, I needed the very best quality of wood. You must see it as a privilege my dear. You were just what I needed. Pureblooded, beautiful, a fair witch, and full of yourself to the extent that you wouldn't suspect a thing due to your own self indulgences."
I sat there, feeling numb for the first time in my life. It was shocking, of course, but terribly clever. My features contorted to show just how appalled I was.
"And so you seduced me..."
"Naturally." he sat back in his chair with a leer across his lips.
"Because you knew, what with your ancestry and my weakness for real Slytherin qualities, that it was easily the best route to take in order to gain my friendship and if need be, my romantic interest."
"Actually, I always knew I would have your romantic interest."
"It seems your just as vain as I am." I told him softly, finding myself in a rather large amount of humiliation.
"Perhaps, but I don't let it get in the way. I've seen the damage that vanity can do and let me say, it is not pretty." he continued to taunt me.
"How many more people are going to have to suffer for your insecurities?" I whispered, past the point of respect and fear.
Tom surveyed me, a perfect frown gracing his features. For moments he sat still with his elbows on his armrests and his hands cross-folded in his lap, hardly blinking before-
"You've always had such nerve." the chuckle rose from his throat gracefully as always. "You know," he wetted his lips and continued to stare me down, "I distinctly remember you trying to explain my reasoning of ruthlessness to half a class full of Ravenclaws just a few months ago."
"I didn't know what I was talking about." I'd never felt such humility in all my life.
"Too right you didn't and you should remember that. Don't tell me about insecurities Lydie, you don't even know what the word means." his tone had grown in harshness as the topic of conversation became more personal. "All my life I've been powerless. I was powerless to stop my father from leaving or my mother from dying. I was powerless living in a hole in the wall on some wet and dreary London street. I was powerless when I came to this school, ridiculed for being pretentious and a mudblood to boot."
"And then you saw the prefects in the halls, didn't you?" I asked, almost as if analyzing his psychology.
"I certainly did, and I realized what I had to do,"-
"Work your way up the power gaining ladder. So there it is then, conquer the minds of the teachers today and all of Britain tomorrow?" I shook my head at his sheer ambition. Not to mention how frighteningly believable his aspirations were beginning to become.
"Not quite. Tomorrow I have an appointment with the headmaster."
"Really? Discussing genocide over tea and biscuits is it?"
He chuckled, "I'm hoping to stay the summer at Hogwarts, did you know?"
This news found me rather alarmed. Tom spending the whole of two months with out an entire brigade of students and teachers to watch his every move. He'd be making preparations to wipe out half the school. Or perhaps…was this another insecurity? Was he shirking away from having to go back to the muggle world? The world where he remained powerless?
"You can't, they won't let you." I blurted out carelessly.
"Really? You might have said the same thing about your parents allowing me to set foot on their grounds. But I was welcomed with open arms and offered more Christmas pudding than I could stomach."
"I'll tell them." I said simply, as if the solution really were that easy and had been plain from the start.
"I'll tell them everything you've been doing to me. Everything you're planning."
"No, you really won't." he chuckled again.
"Oh? What are you going to do? Kill me?"
He sighed and massaged his temple, "I wish I could, just so you might shut-up once in a while and allow me to finish my answers to your pathetic questions." he bit the retort off, weary of my presence and resilience. "Thing is Lydie, do you honestly think they'll believe you?"
My eyes shifted around nervously. I felt much smaller all of a sudden as I remembered my place and Tom's. He was the prefect everyone loved and I was under suspicion of murder. Somehow the scales seemed to be tipping in his favor.
And then I realized that the truth might help me. If I confessed everything, even my own involvement and didn't give Tom the chance to fill in his own falsehoods they would have to take action. This was beyond saving my own skin, this was war against Hogwarts' Head Boy.
But once again, the great brute read my thoughts and responded aptly, "You'll be thrown in Azkaban you daft little girl." he shook his head in all seriousness as he explained my idiocy yet again, "Don't you see? You killed Gregory Lydia, you killed a boy."
"I didn't kill anyone." I breathed.
"No I really think you did, love. Don't you remember? He was putting you through hell and you hated him. I even pointed out that perhaps hate was too strong a word. But you insisted my dear, and you asked me to kill him."
"You offered."
"It's not fault I'm a good friend." he smirked, "Now if you'll excuse me: you've rather exhausted me, so I'll think I'll turn in. Don't forget that essay." after standing and pushing in his chair he gave me a last taunting wink and was off to bed.
