There was a snake in her sheets.

It was sliding silently on her bed, the pale glow of the moon outside reflecting on his black scales. The pillow next to her pressed down under its weight. Every second it was getting closer, but she was forced to remain still against her will.

Unable to move, she watched in terror as it softly hissed, dangerously close to her face. The animal sustained her gaze with its piercing, intelligent eyes as if it could guess exactly how scared she was. She tried to scream, but there was no more air inside her lungs.

Her eyes flew open as she woke up, gasping for air. Yasmina jerked off her bed so abruptly she almost fainted from the lack of blood to her head, reaching for her wand on her nightstand. When she dizzily pointed her wand at her bed, she found it empty. She carefully look underneath her blankets, but the snake was nowhere in sight.

A dream. It was a dream. It wasn't real.

She doubled-checked the sheets, looked under her bed, and made sure every nook and cranny of her room was clear before she allowed herself to breathe in relief. She lit a candle and made sure there was enough light in her room to relax. She slid back under the covers, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She hated nightmares. She hated snakes.

Although she tried with all her will to fall back asleep, Yasmina saw the hours pass, the candle melt, and the sun rise.

Being insomniac so soon in the school year was a dangerous curse. It was only September fourth and she wasn't even anxious about her schoolwork yet. The lack of sleep made her edgy… and even more short-tempered.

She got dressed and left the deserted apartment, heading for the Great Hall. It was still early, but the room was already packed with sleepy students, chatting lazily over their breakfast. Yasmina spotted her friend and she let herself fall onto the seat next to her, sighting in despair, eyes closed. Next to her, a well-rested blonde shot her a mocking look.

"Rough night?" the blonde asked, noticing her curved shoulders.

"Terrible," Yasmina mumbled, unable to hide a wide yawn.

A small vial was pushed in her direction. "Here."

Yasmina poured the potion into her orange juice and drank the mixture. She instantly felt better. Her friend was a potion master and her incredible invigoration draught was famous all around the castle. She regularly sold her potions for a small number of sickles and they quickly became the most successful items sold in the Hogwarts black market.

She granted her first smile of the day. "Thanks, Eve. I feel better. I had a stupid nightmare and wasn't able to fall back asleep."

"That's because you left your bed in the tower and are now sleeping alone in your new fancy quarters." Eve shrugged her shoulders. "You could come back."

Yasmina shook her head, grabbing a chocolate croissant. "You know I can't. I've been named Head girl four days ago, I cannot tell Dippet I resign just to go back to the tower with all of you, especially after Cheryl's resignation on the first day. I'll get used to it."

Eve hid a small laugh behind her teacup and shot her a teasing wink. "I should have known you craved for that kind of power. You're just like the Head boy."

The Head girl threw a glance at the Slytherin's table, where the said Head boy was having a conversation with a shy-looking younger student. Nothing, from his dark wavy hair to his uniform, was out of place. She rolled her eyes. "Please. I'm not that suck-up."

Near her, other students dressed in red were smiling mockingly. It was well-known that Yasmina Shafiq wasn't particularly fond of Slytherins.

One of the young men leaned toward her. "Talking about Riddle?"

"Anything to add, Hadrian? He's a friend of yours, after all." Eve asked casually to the red-haired man, a grin on the corner of her lips.

Hadrian rolled his eyes. "We've talked twice in seven years, he's not my friend. Yasmina, how is the cohabitation going?"

"I don't know, I've never even seen him in our quarters. So much for teamwork and houses cohesion." Yasmina put down her glass on the table noisily. Perhaps Eve's potion had given her a bit too much energy. She felt like she could run ten miles and she wasn't the athlete type.

"As if you really wanted houses cohesion," Hadrian mocked and Yasmina stuck her tongue out at him.

"Still, I could use some help with Head duties," she finally said and he and Eve both nodded in agreement.

Yasmina Shafiq did not hate Tom Riddle, but she was perfectly happy ignoring him. Somehow, his perfectness annoyed her terribly. Riddle was adored by half the school and envied by the other. He was talented, she couldn't say otherwise. But being a genius had made him arrogant, and arrogance was something Yasmina had a hard time tolerating.

The worst was undoubtedly his group of friends. She had known the majority of them all her life, as they had grown up in the same circles. They gravitated around him as if he were some kind of deity, letting him rule over Hogwarts from his pedestal. Yasmina didn't despise Riddle - he was undoubtedly gifted and she admired his cleverness – but she couldn't stand his selfishness and his false – because she knew it was false – humility.

Charms and Rune Studies occupied most of her morning, and before she could even realize it, she was already seated in front of her cauldron the dungeons for her last class of the day. Beside her, Eve was dancing around the ingredients, cutting the roots with destabilizing ease, lovingly mixing the potion, her finger stroking the rim of her cauldron in an affectionate caress. She could have done this with her eyes closed and Yasmina was absolutely certain that she would have been as graceful doing so.

Her skills were unmatched, and being able to observe her brewing potions was Yasmina's highlight of the day. And she wasn't the only one to stare.

By the end of the class, Eve had accomplished another exploit.

"I can barely believe it, Miss Murphy, but you managed to impress me again today!" Slughorn was beaming at his desk in the front of the classroom, examining the vial of Eve's potion under the light of his wand. "This is absolutely incredible. Did you add a pinch of African sea salt to counter the side effects of intermittent shaking?"

"Yes and two drops of Hibiscus essence to give the potion a softer texture," Eve casually added as Slughorn clapped his hands in amazement.

"Astounding! I was planning on inviting the famous potion master Mr. Blurbury to my next little party, in two weeks. I hope you will do us the favor of your presence. It would be good for you to meet him. Perhaps he could give you an internship in his lab next summer, what do you think?"

Yasmina smiled. Eve had avoided going to his little parties for years now. Most of the attendees were Slytherins purebloods and she was not particularly looking for having a whole evening with them.

"Thank you, professor, I'll see if I can manage to postpone my studies for a night. It would be a great opportunity."

"Why don't you also bring Miss Shafiq with you next time, hum? We could certainly make some space around the table for the new Head girl."

Behind Slughorn's back, Yasmina made grand gestures to her friend to draw her attention, shaking her head and moving her index straight across her throat in an indication that Eve had to stop Slughorn from suggesting such ideas.

But her friend didn't care about Yasmina's reservations and nodded in agreement. "It is an amazing idea. I'll make sure to extend the invitation to her."

Yasmina sighed in desperation. At the table right behind her, she could have sworn that she heard Riddle whisper insolently to his friend, "Can you enlighten me? What is the accomplishment in being named Head girl by default?"

Yasmina shot a murdering glare behind her shoulder, but Riddle ignored her and Nott was too busy examining the content of his cauldron with a smirk on his lips to notice that she had overheard them. These haughty bastards were draining her already limited patience.

She grabbed her bag as soon as the bell rang and left the classroom, dragging her friend by the arm.

"What's the hurry?" the blonde asked, "don't you want to hear Slughorn praise my abilities for another 30 minutes?"

"I love to hear how amazing you are Eve, but trust me, I had to get away. Otherwise, I would have committed murder and there were way too many witnesses."

They reached the Great Hall, which was already packed with students enjoying their dinner.

"Riddle's an idiot, and Nott is even worse." Eve sighed; rolling her eyes after Yasmina told her what she had overheard.

And Nott wasn't the worse of them. He was clever enough to have a seat in Slughorn's N.E.W.T.s class and was very well mannered. He was clearly too snobbish for his own good, but this character trait wasn't really out of place in his group of friends. Mulciber and Rosier were far worse, but luckily for her, both of them were so dumb that they only had a few classes in common.

She couldn't say the same about Riddle and Nott though. She was stuck with the two Slytherins in almost all of her classes.

"Who knew that you only had to become Head girl to get an invitation to Slug's club," Eve mocked, and Yasmina playfully picked a potato from her friend's plate.

"This is terrible. I was perfectly fine living backstage of your potion show. I don't know why you had to drag me into this."

At dinner, the two Gryffindors spent so much time debating about whether or not they should go to the next Slug's Club meeting that it was almost curfew. Yasmina grabbed a pumpkin pasty from the remaining pile and headed for her new dormitory that was reserved for Head students.

She loved Gryffindor tower, but she was glad to have a private room and to avoid the long wait for the bathroom in the mornings. Not that Riddle wasn't fond of his appearance – far from it – but he still managed to leave their quarters every morning before she even woke up, which facilitated the bathroom sharing process by a lot. And that single advantage made up for the fact that she now had to cohabit with the Slytherin Head boy. Fortunately for her, she barely saw him.

This is why she was so surprised when she opened the door and noticed him quietly sitting at the table, working on what looked like a potion essay. His quill scraped on the parchment paper, several books opened around him.

"Hey Riddle," she greeted, polite.

"Good evening," he said from the tip of his lips, his attention still solely devoted to his essay. He didn't look up.

Knowing that she was bothering him, she decided to stay. Her Gryffindor's spirit may have been too strong, but according to her, every time that she wasn't irking a Slytherin was a lost opportunity. She would prove to him that she was more than the "Head girl by default" he had accused her to be.

Yasmina leaned against his table, trying to read his essay upside down. "About Head duties, we need to make the patrol schedule before Monday."

"Sure. I will take care of it this weekend," he answered, his eyes still on his parchment, underlining a subtitle.

Her voice hardened at his lack of consideration. "I meant together."

"Don't worry about it; I can perfectly do it by myself."

She frowned and closed the book in front of him, forcing him to listen. He tensed. "Well, that's not what Dippet asked of us."

The Slytherin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. He finally looked up from his essay and planted his dark eyes on her. "I prefer working alone if you don't mind," he responded coldly, meeting her tone.

"I mind, actually." Yasmina glared at him in disdain. "I plan to get as much credit as I can, and I won't get any be sitting down while you do every Head duty alone.

"Craving for a bit of power, aren't you?" He looked down at her robe, mockingly. "Surely you got sorted wrong. What is your name again?"

Fury awakened inside her stomach, and she had to look away to avoid cursing him. That cocky grin wasn't leaving his mouth, as if he knew exactly how his words had hit the right place. That was the main problem with Riddle.

He knew exactly which button to push.

He didn't even flinch as she raised her voice, her temper shortened by the lack of sleep.

"We've been prefects together since fifth year. You're supposed to know my name! What is wrong with you? How much more self-centered can you possibly be?"

He replied to her with unshakable politeness, which was so calculated that Yasmina almost gagged in disgust.

"Well, Miss, would you do me the favor of telling me your name? It would certainly help with all this – he pointed at her, then him with his index – collaboration."

The Head girl stared at him for several long seconds before answering him. "Yasmina Shafiq."

"Shafiq? You're in the Sacred 28?"

Of course, he would be interested in her blood status. He was a goddamn Slytherin. The only thing Yasmina hated more than power-hungry Slytherins were muggle-hating Slytherins. "Yes," she harshly answered.

"You're a pureblood."

"Yes, that's what the Sacred 28 means."

Riddle stared at her long frizzy black hair and her brown skin. "You don't look like it."

"You certainly look like a jerk."

Yasmina didn't lower her eyes and sustained his cold gaze. The politeness usually stuck to him had flown away. "Talking to me like this, I believe you don't want us to work together after all."

"Like this?" she repeated in amazement. "You're the one who told me that I wasn't Caucasian enough to be a pureblood."

He rolled his eyes. "That is not what I meant at all. I'm merely saying that you don't have the typical pureblood attitude."

"You mean that arrogant, know-it-all, supremacist attitude?" Yasmina snapped. She's had lots of pureblood encounters in the past. She knew the drill.

"I meant a dignified, polite, and superior attitude" he answered.

Yasmina snorted. "My point exactly."

Riddle seemed to hold back a smile and opened his book again. "I have work to do, is there anything else?"

She stared at him, amazed at how easily he had switched the conversation to avoid speaking about collaborating work. "We didn't settle anything."

"Why is that so important to you? Would you be happy if I let you draw the template? Or put so pretty colors for the days of the week?" He smirked. Her blood boiled.

"I am not your secretary. I deserve to do as much as you. I don't care if all the teachers are in awe of you, but I won't let you have your little power trip while I am stuck in the background. I am Head girl, I am your colleague, and you are going to have to deal with it."

The Slytherin's attention went back to his essay and he drafted a few words, mumbling loud enough for her to hear. "Head girl by default, since the last one resigned…"

"Fuck you."

Yasmina turned her back at him and stormed up toward her room. She stopped at the top of the stair. "Sunday morning at ten, here in this room. We are going to prepare that schedule together, as we should. Be there."

She had time to catch a glimpse of his stunned face before closing the door.

0o0o0

When Yasmina woke up Friday morning, this whole situation felt surreal. Even after her shower, she couldn't stop thinking about their argument. His cold, impassive dark eyes were imprinted in her mind. Her reflection winked at her in the fogged mirror. She too had black hair and dark eyes. But hers were warm and friendly. Nothing like the dead void he had for irises.

Once in the Great Hall, she sat at her usual place, waiting for Eve, and resisted the urge to look at the Slytherin table, even though she could feel eyes on her back.

Eve arrived shortly after her and took place in front of her, directly facing the rest of the room. She quickly noticed what Yasmina hoped she wouldn't. "Why the hell is Riddle looking at you like that?" Eve said as she poured some tea into a cup.

"We had a chat last night." The Head girl shrugged her shoulders and took another bite of the delicious croissant.

"What did you say to him?" Eve froze, holding the teapot mid-air, shooting a glance at the Slytherin table. "He looks pissed."

"Nothing much. I told him he was a jerk and that he wasn't royalty so I wasn't going to let me boss around and be his little secretary."

Eve laughed so hard that she spit her tea all over the Gryffindor table.

"You are insane." She whispered with a big smile on her lips. "This is Tom Riddle we're talking about. He's untouchable."

Yasmina rolled her eyes. "He's untouchable because everybody complies with his every request."

"Yes, because he's the most talented student here, and I'm pretty sure he could easily beat everyone in a duel."

Yasmina snorted. "Yes, because everybody would let him win."

"This is bad faith and you know it," Eve retorted.

The Head girl noticed Hadrian tending an ear to their conversation and she changed the subject. She didn't want the whole school to know that she yelled at the Head boy only a week after the beginning of classes.

"That four hours course of Transfiguration will be the end of me!" Eve complained while walking across the Middle Courtyard after breakfast.

"I thought that you liked Dumbledore," the Head girl replied, surprised. She too liked him. He was her favorite teacher and Transfiguration was her strongest subject.

"Don't get me wrong, I adore him. I just know that my head will explode after four hours of transfiguring objects."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad, we just –

"Shafiq!" a voice interrupted her.

She turned around and saw Riddle accompanied by a few of his Slytherin friends coming towards her. "Great." Yasmina asserted sarcastically.

She stopped walking and Eve hesitated. Yasmina nodded, reassuring, and Eve entered the classroom, not without whispering "Good luck" to her friend.

"What do you want, Riddle?"

"Wait for me inside," he commanded and his friends walked past Yasmina, not without taking a haughty look at her. She gazed back at Nott, who smirked.

He waited until they were alone in the courtyard before addressing her. She stiffened, her hand squeezing her wand in her pocket. For sure, he wanted to punish her for what she said to him last night. The autumn wind, though strangely warm, twirled her long black hair.

"I can't make it Sunday," he finally said.

Yasmina instantly eased down. "Why?"

"It is none of your business." She raised a brow and he sighed. "We can do the patrol schedule on Saturday night," he suggested instead.

"I have plans on Saturday night."

"Surely your plans are less important than mine."

There it was again, that arrogance. She felt her anger rise within her chest and she looked at him in disdain. How could people deal with his whims all the time? She didn't have time for this. "I can't understand why your friends don't get tired of your incessant complaining. I'm not at your disposal, Riddle," Yasmina blurted out.

To her dismay, he only laughed at her. "Calm down," the Slytherin mocked. "Are you always that short-tempered?"

The bell rang but Riddle did not move toward the door. She looked at him, uncertain. Yasmina knew that Riddle was only courteous to her because she was a pureblood. She was sure that if her blood was less precious, he wouldn't even take the time to talk to her.

"Can you postpone your plans for an hour?" He asked. "The preparation will not take long; I have already started the schedule." Yasmina rolled her eyes. "If we meet at 7 Saturday night we will be done by 8."

She hesitated, and then gave up. It was still a victory. "Fine."

They walked classroom in silence. At the front, professor Dumbledore was looking at them, visibly uneasy. He stopped his lesson. "You're late, Miss Shafiq, Mister Riddle."

"We're sorry, Professor Dumbledore. We were resolving an issue related to Head duties." Riddle replied politely, but Yasmina could sense the hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Take your seat," Dumbledore said dryly without taking his eyes off the Slytherin.

The lesson was absolutely excruciating. Yasmina knew that she would need to take a nap to recover before starting her homework. Dumbledore was a great teacher, yet transfiguration seemed so easy for him that he couldn't get how tiring it was for his learning students. When the bell finally rang, she heard a few students sigh in relief. The professor called her out.

"Miss Shafiq – a word please?"

She smiled tiredly and nodded. As she walked toward the front of the class, the other students headed outside. The door closed and the room fell silent.

"How is your first week going?" the professor asked politely.

"Good, thank you, but very busy."

"Ah yes, Head duties are quite taking," he commented with a smile. "Congratulations on your nomination! I am glad Gryffindor is represented once again. I thought Dippet wanted to go forward with a Hufflepuff Head girl."

"She resigned, sir."

He looked at her over his glasses, his bright blue eyes sparkling. She knew that he wanted to talk to her about something way more important than her Head girl duties. She waited patiently. He seemed to be looking for his words.

After a while, he took off his glasses and sighed. "I believe that you respected your word and haven't talked to anyone about what your father told you."

Dumbledore was staring at his glasses, avoiding her gaze. Only one thing could make him that uneasy – and that was a well-kept secret. Everybody knew that Dumbledore was the only wizard able to defeat Grindelwald. What was less known, however, was that Dumbledore had no desire to oppose his rival at all – who was at the same time – his former lover.

Yasmina's father told her about it when he overheard that Scamander Auror mentioning it a couple of years ago. For an unknown reason, Dumbledore learned that she knew about it and made her promise that she wouldn't tell any other student.

She nodded. "No one knows."

"I appreciate your discretion. However, I must ask you again to keep your word. It is absolutely essential that nobody else learn about this, especially now - and especially not Tom Riddle."

"Riddle? Why?"

He insisted rather than explained what he had on his mind. "Miss Shafiq, it is crucial that Tom Riddle doesn't learn about that situation."

"I'm sorry sir, but why would I tell Riddle about that?"

"You are both Head students and you will spend a lot of time together this year. Tom Riddle is a clever student; he could easily extract that information from you. You must promise me that you will do everything in your power to prevent him from accessing that information."

He kept staring at her until she nodded.

"Thank you. Don't hesitate to come to me if there is anything I can do." Dumbledore added while rising from the table on which he was seated.

"Have a good day, professor."

Dumbledore left by the backdoor, leaving her alone with her thoughts. This was very odd. Why would Dumbledore ask her such a thing? She could not understand what Riddle could do with such knowledge. Yasmina grabbed her books and her bag and left the classroom. The Middle Courtyard was incredibly silent, except for the rustle of the wind in the colored, dry leaves. Everybody else was in the Great Hall for lunch. That calmness was soothing, especially after such a lesson.

She jumped when she realized that somebody was waiting for her, leaning on the wall near the door. The Head boy approached her and stared with his cold, dark eyes.

"What is Dumbledore hiding from me?" he asked calmly, but she could distinctly hear the threat in his voice.

There was no more polite smile on his face, no false humility, only cold determination. He took out his wand and pointed it at her, patiently waiting for her answer.

There was no way out.

No one could escape Tom Riddle.