"Tell me." Tom Riddle demanded, pointing his yew wand at her throat.

She attempted to reach her own, but he softly caressed her neck with the tip of his wand, threatening. "Don't even think about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she finally said, looking around for an opportunity to escape. "Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about some tutoring lessons."

"You're a bad liar, Shafiq, and I am not a very patient man." His smile was heavy with the promise of pain.

"You are wasting my time, Riddle," Yasmina managed to spat, impressed by her ability to maintain her composure.

Riddle's dark eyes shone with animosity and he pushed his wand stronger against her skin. Since she was clearly not going to comply, he opened his mouth to repeat his threat, but quickly turned his head toward the sound of voices approaching.

To her relief, the Herbology teacher, followed by a couple of Hufflepuff students arrived in the Middle Courtyard. Riddle lowered his wand and hid it in his pocket before anyone could see him. Yasmina started to walk away from him, but he held her back by the wrist.

He made sure nobody else heard what he said. Even whispered, his tone was menacing. "I'm not done with you. Make sure that the next time I ask, you give me answers."

The Slytherin crossed the courtyard with great strides, leaving Yasmina alone, her hands trembling, her breath shaking and her mind preoccupied.

Yasmina Shafiq was a bright witch. She had great dueling skills and her mind was sharp. She did not fear Tom Riddle. No, she did not fear him.

She felt angry. Angry at Dumbledore for making her keep a secret that she had nothing to do with. Angry because no matter how much she wanted to tell Eve about what just happened, she couldn't, since she would have to reveal why Riddle was threatening her in the first place. And angry at herself, because even though she was intelligent and brave, Tom Riddle made her brain go numb.

And this was terribly inconvenient.

She ran her fingers through her long, frizzy hair and headed back inside. The Head girl chose to skip lunch and went to the library instead. She sat down at a remote table, determined not to be disturbed by anyone, especially not by lost first years in quest of a particular book. She needed to be alone.

The Gryffindor spent most of the afternoon trying to study, but her mind kept playing the part where Riddle was menacing her. "I'm not done with you," he had said. What would be his next step? Was threatening her not enough? Yasmina grunted and laid down her head on the table, her eyes closed. She remained in this position for as long as she could, thinking about different solutions to tackle the Riddle problem.

When the incessant complaints of her stomach could no longer be ignored, she went downstairs to the Great Hall to take a bite. Carefully avoiding the Slytherin's table, she almost ran up to hers.

Not that she was afraid. No, Yasmina wasn't scared of a selfish Slytherin. She simply wanted to avoid further problems. That was a completely rational choice.

Her best friend was absent, so she decided to sit with Hadrian instead. His face lit up with a smile when he saw her. "Hey Yasmina, how are you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you," she lied while grabbing some food on the table without looking. Have you seen Eve?"

"She left about ten minutes ago, I believe she went back to the tower."

Yasmina finally noticed her plate – fish and chips – and began to eat. Even if she was hungry, the food barely made it down her emotionally squeezed esophagus. She tried to keep a neutral face, but in her head, she kept seeing Riddle's wand on her throat. The Head girl loudly sighed and pushed her plate away.

Hadrian noted her troubles. "What's wrong?"

Yasmina lied again. "I don't know." She shook her head as if her memories of the past hours could disappear. "I just need to take my mind off things."

"Come with us, it's quidditch practice tonight. At least you'll have some fresh air, up in the stands."

She smiled. "Yes, this is an excellent idea."

A couple of minutes later, both of them were walking toward the quidditch pitch. She felt better, breathing in the autumn wind. She sat in the stands and looked around while Hadrian met the rest of the team down on the field.

She could not hear them talk, but she guessed that they were discussing game plans. Even that far, she noticed the Quidditch Captain, Thomas Berger waving at her and she waved back. They took off in the evening sky.

Yasmina spent the night watching the Quidditch team trying new maneuvers and strategies on their broomstick. Some players were more daring than others and she gasped a few times. Quidditch was great… but only from the stands. Yes, Yasmina was a Gryffindor and yes, she was sometimes brave and adventurous, but Merlin, Quidditch was a different story. Quidditch players were absolutely reckless and she couldn't get her head around the fact that people liked flying imprudently a hundred feet above the cold – and very solid – ground. Again, she was being rational by staying in the stands.

Up here, she could see the dark shadows of the trees of the Forbidden forest bending with the wind, she could see the black water of the lake stretching out to the horizon but mostly, her sight was captivated by the splendid castle on the hill. Even after seven years, she still felt grateful to be here. She couldn't help but smile.

She hung out with the Gryffindor Quidditch team until curfew. When the night fell and the practice was over, she walked down the stands. Hadrian waited for her and escorted her back to her apartment. "Are you feeling better? How was your night?"

"It was great! Thanks for inviting me. I needed to escape the Head apartment for a night."

"Is Riddle giving you a lot of trouble?"

She hesitated long enough for him to guess that she was lying. "No, he's not."

Hadrian frowned, unconvinced. "Well if he is, you know that you can come to me, right?"

"I know. Thank you, Hadrian, for everything." They stopped in front of the portrait representing the green landscape surrounding the castle. He nodded and left toward the Gryffindor tower. She waited for it seemed like several minutes before finding the courage of entering her quarters. Would Riddle be waiting for her as he had said?

She could not believe her luck when she found the living room empty. The Head boy was nowhere in sight. She rushed toward her room and locked her door. She added a protection spell or two and exhausted, she fell back on her bed.

0o0o0

Saturday morning, fortunately for the Head girl, her Slytherin counterpart was still away. That was perfect. She wanted to avoid him for as long as possible. Although she knew that she would have to meet him tonight for their Head duties. One thing at a time.

For now, she was still an unharmed student and she had homework to do.

The Head girl spent most of the day studying at the library. The teachers had given them an atrocious amount of work to do. At the end of the day, she had completed her transfiguration essay and her potion homework. When she reached the Great Hall for the evening meal, she almost skipped to her table, delighted to finally have some human interactions.

Yet, time flew by quickly, and before she could even think about an escape route, it was already seven. She left Eve behind at the Gryffindor table, making her swear that she would come and get her in an hour if she was not done.

Of course, Eve knew nothing about that whole "threatening to kill you" situation.

Yasmina had only told her to come and snatch her from Riddle's claws if he stretched their meeting past eight. At least, if anything happened, Eve would be able to help her.

The adrenaline ran through her veins as she hurried up the stair. Was she crazy for walking straight into the lion's den? Probably. But Yasmina was a hothead Gryffindor and she could not let Riddle win that game. And mostly, if she showed up late for their meeting, Riddle would certainly think that she was too afraid to come. It was absolutely out of the question for him to think that she was scared of him.

Because she wasn't.

So when she arrived in front of the portrait leading to her apartment, she almost shouted the password and passed through the hole, her blood rushing with adrenaline.

She had a meeting with the devil.

Tom Riddle was casually seated in the armchair near the fire, his right ankle on his left knee, a book in his hand. As usual, nothing was out of place in his appearance. His dark hair was perfectly placed, his grey jacket thoroughly ironed, and his green tie around his neck. It was Saturday night and yet he wore his uniform with so much pride, so much appreciation.

She stood by the entrance as he finished reading the page, placed a bookmark, and softly closed the book. Unconcerned about her, he walked up to the table and sat down, attracting a big piece of parchment with his wand.

He dipped his quill in ink and then drew a straight line on the parchment without looking at her. "Are you planning on working from there?"

"I thought –" She did not finish her sentence. What was she going to say anyway? I thought you wanted to forcefully extract the truth from me before working on the patrol schedule? Brilliant. Perhaps he wasn't going to address the question at all tonight. Perhaps he had other plans. But she didn't trust him – never have, never will – and carefully took place in front of him at the table.

She remained mostly silent, focused on deciphering Riddle's behavior. The Slytherin seemed incredibly at ease. His tapered fingers held his pheasant quill, scrolling it across the large parchment. For her part, Yasmina could not focus on their task at all and she let him do most of the work. Her right hand kept reaching for her wand in her pocket and coming back to the table. How could he be so composed? The Head girl did not believe in his suddenly cooperative attitude. She reached for her wand again.

"Why don't you put it on the table?" He suggested without even looking up, annoyed with her agitation. "At least you could keep your eyes on it and you could focus on something else, perhaps the patrol schedule."

Yasmina stared at him suspiciously but decided to put her wand on the table. He was right, though. She felt less insecure having her wand in sight. Yet the silence stretched on.

The Head boy asked for her help only once in the forty-five minutes they spent on the schedule. "What do you think about Fawley and Anderson on Thursday nights?"

She shook her head. "It's a terrible idea, they hate each other. We should switch Anderson for Wright."

"Right." He barred Anderson's name and made a few modifications before putting down his quill. "There. It's completed. Not that you were much help. All that tantrum for nothing."

Yasmina threw him an annoyed glance. "I would have if you had acted like a teammate, but I know that is too much to ask of you." Her desire to leave him alone was greater than her envy to argue, so she stood up. "Anyway, I have to go." She reached for her wand but Riddle prevented her from slipping away by pressing it between his palm and the table.

The temperature of the room lost several degrees. "Oh, we're not done."

The Head girl pulled on her wand strongly, breaking his grip. "I believe we are."

He quietly stood up, his slender fingers caressing the varnished wood of the furniture as he walked around the table to meet her. She didn't move.

"You really thought I would let you get away that easily?"

No, she didn't. "Yes, Riddle, since I don't have anything to tell you."

"Shafiq, you and I both know that you're not telling the truth." His charming voice and smile made her feel uneasy. She had expected him to be angry or maybe even attack her. But no, instead he was charming. Manipulative. Controlling. Sly.

Slytherin.

She hated it. She hated him.

"Now now, Head girl, why don't you save us a lot of trouble and just tell me what's on your mind?"

"Nothing is on my mind, except that I'm going to be late," she snapped.

He ignored her answer and got closer to her. "I'm sure you hate having to wear such a burden on your shoulders. I could… I could help you wear it. Dumbledore…" he scoffed. "Dumbledore doesn't care about that weight and I know that makes you angry. Let me into the confidence and I could take that burden for you, ease your troubles." He looked down for a second. He almost seemed shy. "You know… You would feel so much better after opening up to someone."

Damn, he was good. If Yasmina hadn't had previous experiences with pureblood manipulation, she would have fallen for it. She understood why everyone in this school – teachers as much as students – was crawling at his feet. His gaze was unexpectedly warm and she loathed how it took her fuzzy brain several long seconds to answer.

"The problem, Riddle, is that I don't trust you. So the answer's no."

His charming grin disappeared as fast as it has appeared in the first place. His eyes grew colder. What an actor. She was impressed. "I can easily extract that information from you, you know?" he said.

Yeah, she had figured. Dumbledore had warned her. She wasn't surprised at all that Riddle was a good Legilimens. Still, her Gryffindor's spirit was so strong that she recklessly irked him again.

She raised a brow, provocative. "Why don't you try?"

Yasmina knew that it was a bold move, but it could discourage the Head boy from trying to penetrate her mind when she wasn't prepared.

In the blink of an eye, he took out his wand. The Head girl faltered when he pointed it right between her eyes but her feet didn't move. She tried to appear confident and her lips stretched into an arrogant smile. He entered in her head without hesitation, without saying the spell at all.

He invaded her privacy, her memories. Had she not known the effects of Legilimency, she would have felt violated. She showed him what she wanted him to see, and at first, he did not notice that Yasmina was Occlumens.

Then, after a minute or two wandering into her past, he tried to see that specific memory concerning Dumbledore. Yet, he could only see what Yasmina has told him about – Dumbledore asking her to give tutoring lessons to the younger students. He mercilessly tried to wander away in her memories, but she blocked him there, making him see that specific encounter time and time again. She could feel his irritation.

The Slytherin tried to break through her mental barriers again, but she resisted. A more powerful attack almost succeeded but she held on and he got out of her head.

He stared at her, visibly furious but nevertheless astonished. "How is that possible?"

Yasmina fell down onto the sofa, panting. This was definitely the most aggressive intrusion into her mind. Her instructor had never gone that hard on her. She was exhausted. "Get down from your pedestal, Riddle. You're not the only one who knows about advanced magic in this school."

He raised his wand again and she pointed hers at him, both glaring at each other in search of weaknesses. She stood up, a hand leaning on the table for additional support. Bloody hell, that mental attack was strong.

His eyes shone with anticipation. "There are other ways to make you talk."

She shivered, but her confident look didn't falter. "It won't work. I have nothing to say."

"You are pretty defensive for someone with nothing to hide."

"If anything happens to me, it will come back to you. All my friends knew that we had this meeting together tonight. You could not get away with it like you surely usually do." She paused and smirked. "What a shame it would be for you to have that kind of stain on your perfect school record."

What better way to intimidate a Slytherin than to use Slytherin's tactics? Under normal circumstances, Yasmina was not that roguish.

Riddle strengthened his grip on his wand. "You're such a –" He stopped when the portrait opened, screeching.

Both of them turned their head toward the entrance, but Yasmina knew who was coming in.

"Girl, I'm here – Oh." Eve looked at the two Head students, their wands pointed at each other. "Looks like your meeting went well."

Riddle lowered his wand first. He was appearing perfectly composed, and how he could hide his emotions was absolutely fascinating. He stormed out of the apartment, leaving the two girls alone.

"What the hell was that?"

"Casual night at Shafiq and Riddle's. You should come here more often." Yasmina said ironically while getting changed for their evening.

"Was he threatening you… or defending himself?" The Head girl almost laughed: Eve clearly knew she was able to threaten him fist.

"Both, I guess."

"What?"

Yasmina ignored her exclamation and led her outside. Eve grabbed her by the arm and stopped her in the middle of the corridor. "Why was he threatening you?"

"Because I'm an annoying Gryffindor. And because I won't comply with his every demand." She could not tell her the real reason, of course, even if that wasn't far from the truth.

"What does he want from you?"

"He wants me to sit down quietly and agree with everything he says. You know me, I'm not that kind of girl."

"Has he hexed you?"

"Eve, that's enough. Please, I appreciate your concern, but I can deal with Riddle. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Yasmina did not want to involve her in this. It was better for her not to know the details of their argument. Who knew, maybe Riddle would try to threaten her too if he knew that she was in the confidence. It was only to protect her. Yasmina wasn't afraid of him, but she knew she would handle him better if no one else was involved, especially not her best friend.

The two young women headed to the Gryffindor tower, chatting endlessly about how Slytherins irritatingly thought that they could get away with anything.

"Hey girls! We thought you weren't coming!" They heard as soon as they passed through the Fat Lady portrait.

"I'm sorry" Yasmina apologized. "Riddle held me back. We had a Head meeting."

Eve and she exchanged a knowing look and joined the others. Even though Yasmina loved having her own space, she missed the Gryffindor common room. It felt cozier and warmer than her apartment… and the company was far friendlier.

Yasmina almost felt bad for all the other houses. The Gryffindors were close, they were all friends and there were no tensions between the lots of them. On top of all that, it was a tradition for the sixth and seven years to hang out together at least twice a month. The Head girl looked around her, a little nostalgic. A couple of them were playing a board game in a corner, while two others were coming down the stairs, sweet provisions in their arms. Yasmina and Eve joined the majority of them chatting near the fireplace.

"We were just telling Hadrian and Mary that they must invite all of us to their wedding."

"Are you two finally engaged?"

"No, we're not. These two – Hadrian pointed at the Wright twins – are so impatient I bet they want me to propose to Mary in the middle of the Great Hall.

The concerned grunted. "Please don't."

They all laughed. Eve graciously tucked her blonde hair back behind her shoulder with a flick of her head. "Don't you think that you are a bit too young for marrying? Personally, I feel like I need to live more before engaging myself, you know?" Eve took a sip of her newly acquired beverage to hide her mocking smile. The Head girl shot Eve a warning look. She knew what her friend was trying to do. Hadrian looked at Yasmina, making Eve's smile grow even more.

"Yes, Murphy, we do know what you plan on doing with your time, don't we? How many more dates do you plan on going before getting engaged?"

She shrugged he shoulders. "The perfect man is not easy to find."

"Is he, now?"

"I believe that Eve would rather be single until the end of times." Yasmina grabbed a butterbeer and shrugged. Eve gratified them with a charming wink.

"Why not? I don't need a husband. It's only a waste of time, in my humble opinion, no offense, Mary."

"None taken," Mary replied, raising her butterbeer in a toast.

One of the Wright twins, Evelyn, turned her head toward her. "What about you, Yasmina? You are definitely lucky to spend so much time alone with the incredibly good-looking Head boy!"

The Head girl almost spat her beverage on the carpet. "Lucky?"

"Well, I know several girls who would love to be at your place, you know?"

Yasmina raised a perplexed eyebrow. She wasn't so sure of that.

"Like you, Evelyn? Don't you fancy him?" Hadrian teased with a mocking smile.

"I do! He's charming."

"I mean, have you seen those cheekbones?" Her twin Margaret added, dreamy.

The Quidditch Captain, Thomas Berger, rolled his eyes. "We get it, he's handsome. But not of you girls stands a chance. Have you ever seen him with someone? He believes he's above it all."

Yasmina nodded, "He is way too much exasperating and whiny to have a girlfriend. No one could stand him."

"Come on, he's a very popular man", Mary said. "Everyone thinks he's cordial and decent. You're just saying that because he's a Slytherin and you hate that house."

Yasmina huffed indignantly. "I am not biased! Riddle is simply an annoying jerk."He was also a powerful wizard, a mastermind manipulator, and a Legilimens. She did not feel the need to elaborate.

Thomas smirked, "And what does he think about you?"

"He also thinks I'm an annoying jerk."

They all laughed. The table near them was full of butterbeer bottles and sweets snacks, like almonds croissants and chocolate cupcakes. The Head girl grabbed a croissant. She loved those. Margaret tried to be rational. "We know you, Yasmina. You like to exaggerate. I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Yes, I'm sure he likes working with you," Mary added kindly, leaning more comfortably on her boyfriend.

"You two couldn't be farther from the truth. We can't stop arguing."

Evelyn snorted, handing a patisserie to her twin. "How is that possible? He is so posed!"

"She's not lying" Eve answered, a little bit tipsy. "When I arrived in their apartment earlier, they were almost dueling."

Most of the Gryffindors laughed in disbelief, but Hadrian frowned. "What?"

Yasmina waved his worry out of hand. "He's just hellish."

"You can move back into the tower, you know."

He seemed genuinely worried. Yasmina was touched by his concern, but she loved having her own space. "That won't be necessary. I can take care of myself, Hadrian."

"Are you sure?" He insisted.

"Please, stop being so overprotective. Mary, is he always like that with you? How can you survive?"

"He is, and honestly, I don't know how I do it."

The group started relating incidents implicating Mary and Hadrian and fortunately for the Head girl, they didn't talk about Tom Riddle again.

Yasmina closed her eyes and leaned her head back comfortably. The night was young.

0o0o0

The next week passed by without any notable incident. Riddle did not threaten her again or asked about that secret she was keeping for Dumbledore. However, she knew that he had not forgotten it. He was often looking at her in disdain. Strangely, cohabitation was a little bit more sufferable. At least the Slytherin did not completely ignore her presence like in the first few days.

Once, she came back to her bedroom and though nothing was missing, she felt like someone else had gone in there. The drawer of her nightstand was not completely shut and the book that she had left on her pillow was laying several inches farther. From that moment on, she put several protection charms around her room that would alert her immediately if someone was trying to penetrate it. She had a feeling that Riddle went through her things this morning while she was in class.

If he was expecting to find information about Dumbledore, he must have been disappointed. Yasmina wasn't stupid, she had no proof whatsoever of what her father told her years ago. It was all in her mind and since she was such a good Occlumens, that information was secure.

She was not even sorry for him.

Yasmina didn't have to talk to her Head counterpart until next Tuesday for the prefect meeting. The two of them were hosting it, but they had not prepared it together beforehand. This was going to be a fantastic improvisation.

She arrived in the meeting room a bit earlier and wasn't surprised to see Riddle already installed at the front. She walked up to him, but he ignored her. "How do you want to proceed with the reunion?"

"I'll lead."

Obviously. Why had she asked? Again, Riddle considered her nothing more than a docile follower. "I can do it."

"If you want to add information on the removal of points, feel free to. But don't interrupt me in front of everyone." He looked down on her. "I can tolerate your impertinence when we're in the Headquarters, but don't think I'll be so accommodating here."

A shiver went down her spine at his menacing tone. She tried to appear unshaken by his threat and took place on a desk near him. She took a deep breath before answering. "Why can't you understand? I'm not scared of you." She talked with a calm voice, not willing to argue with him again and let the situation get out of hand. "By the way, stop looking through my things. You won't find anything and I would appreciate it if I could keep some kind of privacy."

He suddenly stopped what he was doing. "Why would I want to look at your… things?"

"You know why, Riddle. Don't act all innocent. This play doesn't work with me."

He turned his back on her, writing notes on the board, mumbling. "Nothing works with you, apparently."

He seemed incredibly annoyed with her. However, when the prefects entered the room dozens of minutes later, he had put on his mark of perfect Head Boy. He smiled charmingly at every prefect, no matter their houses.

Riddle started the reunion and went through every important aspect – the beginning of the year, the arbitrary removal of points, the Hogsmeade visits – without even looking at her. Yasmina could see that the majority of the students summoned were watching her with curiosity. They all knew her; she had worked with the majority of them in the past two years, except the eight fifth-year prefects. They were probably wondering why the Head girl wasn't participating in the meeting like she was supposed to. Yasmina did try to speak several times, but Riddle only let her say a few words.

He then moved on to the patrols schedule. Yasmina felt incredibly useless. She didn't know if it was because of his love of power or his toxic masculinity, but he didn't feel the need to involve her at all.

This was enough. Yasmina rose from her seat, tired of being left behind. "You have all received the patrol schedule last week. Are there any questions?"

"I don't like having to complete my patrols on Fridays; can I change for another night?"

"I meant, are there any relevant questions?" Several students laughed and Anderson crossed her arms, pouting.

"No other questions? We're done for tonight, please stay in touch with either of us if you need anything."

Now she was going to have a conversation with the Slytherin. Alone. If the man couldn't get the fact that she was his equal into his dumb head, she would go to Dippet. This was the last meeting where she would not play a prominent role like she was supposed to.

The prefects grabbed their notebooks and started to chat, but Riddle intervened. "We're not done, actually." Everybody sat back down in silence.

Yasmina sighed, unimpressed. "Come on, we all have other things to do, let's not prolong the meeting unnecessarily."

"Headmaster Dippet wants us to address the question of Halloween tonight."

"How come you know what the Headmaster wants and I don't?"

"He told me at dinner, yesterday." His confident smile widened.

Her annoyance reached a new level. "Why didn't he tell me too?"

"I guess he has his preferences."

No surprise there. She knew that Dippet absolutely adored the Slytherin. He was quick to favor him. She sighed. "What does he want?"

"The Headmaster wants us to do something different this year at the feast. He wants us to organize an event that will bring the four houses closer."

"This is clearly Dumbledore's idea." Marion Fawley, a sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect commented with a grin.

Several students chuckled at her remark, Yasmina included. "You're right, Dumbledore's ideas are sometimes crazy, but they are always thoughtful." The Head girl smiled confidently and took the lead - finally. "That could be a great challenge. I suggest we give it a go! What could we do?

"We could organize some sort of tournament?" suggested a Gryffindor prefect.

Riddle nodded, but Yasmina shook her head. "This is a terrible idea. Have you ever read about the Triwizard tournaments? It's an inevitable disaster."

Suggestions came from all sides.

"We could organize a dance!"

"Or a Halloween masquerade ball!"

"God, no." Riddle sighed, his finger massaging his temples. He raised a hand and everybody fell silent. "One at a time, but pertinent suggestions only."

People fell silent until a Ravenclaw prefect raised his hand. "We don't have much time until Halloween. It is in a bit more than a month. How about we just organize the Halloween feast without house tables? Students would have no choice but to mingle. We could draw seats at random."

"No way!" yelled a Gryffindor prefect, outraged by the Ravenclaw's idea. Yasmina grinned mockingly at his reaction. "That is actually a very good suggestion, Lupin! It's easy to set up and it meets Dippet's requirements."

The Head boy was not convinced. "Are you sure it's a good idea?"

"Oh yes, Riddle. For a whole night, students will get to know each other, no matter their age, their houses, or their blood. It's going to be beneficial to everyone, even to you." She tried to hide her amused smile. "You will have to discuss with people other than Lestrange or Nott."

Riddle's eyes shone with enmity, but before he could reply, she turned her back on him and began planning the evening with Lupin and the other prefects.

Perfect. Now she had found a purpose.

0o0o0

Tom Riddle was livid.

No matter how hard he tried or what strategy he designed, he still could not get the truth out of Shafiq's mouth. It was incredibly frustrating.

He has threatened her, looked into her things, conducted research at the library, and even followed Dumbledore for a week without finding the slightest bit of evidence about this secret. Absolutely nothing. He felt like he was losing his precious time. Legilimency was the easiest way to obtain what he wanted, yet the girl was such a good Occlumens that he didn't stand a chance. Perhaps a few crucios would make her talk.

Tom angrily kicked a vial that was lying on the floor, breaking it against the adjacent wall. He sighed. He had to control his anger, otherwise, he would lose his place on top of the school hierarchy and that could get in the way of his… aspirations.

When he reached the Great Hall, there was nothing more on his face than polite impassivity. Under his mask, though, he was raging. He sat down at the Slytherin's table, next to Theodore Lestrange. The Great Hall was almost empty on this late Wednesday morning.

"Good morning, my lord."

Tom didn't even feel the slightest pleasure about his title and did not reply. Aware, his companion noticed his bad mood and correctly guessed the cause of his torments. "Are you still trying to find a solution for the… hum… Head girl problem?"

"Yes."

"Can I assist you in anything? What have you tried?"

Tom whispered, "I've tried everything."

It was not common for Tom Riddle to fail. The others could not learn something like this, or his authority would be endangered. Lestrange knew that he had to keep his word or he would get punished.

"Well, not everything" Theodore Lestrange suddenly answered with a mocking smile.

"If you have an idea, share it." Riddle ordered, then he added, almost imperceptibly "I'm so angry at that insufferable girl I might kill her the next time I'm alone with her"

"You've just said it"

Riddle scoffed. "Kill her? You are terribly simple-minded, Theodore. How can I get what I want from her if she's dead?"

"No! No. I don't mean that at all." He seemed terrified at the idea. Tom almost scoffed. So weak. "You said it, she's a girl," Theodore insisted, "and you spend an awful amount of time alone with her. Why don't you put that time to good use?"

Tom didn't answer at first. Was he suggesting something so simple, yet so vile as –

"Seducing her?" He laughed coldly. "That will never work, she despises me."

"Perhaps…"Theodore emptied his glass and stood up from the table, discreetly pointing at the Gryffindor table with a nod. "But are you really certain?" He shrugged his shoulders and addressed him with a cocky wink before exiting the Great hall.

Shafiq and her friends – The noisy blonde and the dullard pureblood Quidditch player – were laughing at an article in the Daily Prophet. Probably feeling observed, Shafiq looked up in his direction. She raised a brow provocatively when she noticed him. Not wanting to start a staring contest, Tom looked away.

That could be interesting. She was pretty enough for his approach to be convincing.

Tom Riddle was always up for a challenge.