A/N: Thank you all so very much for the constant support and encouragement! I apologize for this update coming in so late. Between the stress of the holidays, travel, after-work functions, and performance evaluations, my biological father had two major heart attacks over the course of the past week and a half. It has been a very stressful time for me on various levels. Although I had this chapter written, I couldn't bring myself to edit it. After a weekend of much needed rest, I finally finished editing and am decently happy with this chapter. Thanks again for your patience! I will be replying to each review/message as soon as I get the chance.

I hope you all enjoy!

Hermione awoke with a start. She flung herself forward with such force that she nearly sent herself toppling out of bed. Despite the slight dizziness that plagued her, it was clear that a lack of mobility was no longer a concern. The side effects of the basilisk's stare had waned. The restorative draught had worked—the petrification had been reversed.

All thanks to Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The same enigmatic young man who no longer sat across from her in the chair at her bedside. And the same one that had read her mind. A cold sweat threatened to break out across Hermione's brow. What had he seen?

"Hello?" Hermione tentatively called out, wondering if Riddle was hiding in some dark corner, waiting to ambush her. She received no response.

Hermione pulled back the heavy blankets still laying atop her lower half and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her trainers were still on. She was thankful for that small bit of knowledge that Riddle left her be during her momentarily petrified state. How unusual it would've been to have the future dark lord be so courteous as to remove her shoes.

She pushed up off the bed and stood, her limbs tingling at the sensation of weight post-petrification. She rubbed at the feeling of tightness the skin on her forearms held; all scrapes and cuts she had received from the shattered glass were healed. She stretched her limbs—thankful to feel every ache that had settled into her joints.

Hermione glanced at the bedside table. Her wand rested there, appearing unharmed and ready to be taken in hand. She snatched the wand and sighed in relief at the familiarity of its grooves in her palm. Wandless magic was not something she had proficiency in, making her wand just as vital to her magic as she was. Hermione turned her attention back to the nightstand and the folded parchment that rested beside her wand. An immediate sense of dread washed over her as she examined the neat scrawl on the front that read Sivad.

She plucked the parchment from the table and carefully unfolded the note.

Miss Sivad,

I think it is imperative that we meet again—and very soon. Please arrive promptly outside the Great Hall before dinner on the fifteenth of November. Until then, let us keep the moment we shared close. I eagerly await your arrival.

Sincerely,

Tom

Riddle was a stickler for politeness and formality when others could happen across what he wrote. Even in his well-mannered address, Hermione knew the sinister tone that fell between each empty space on the page. She knew he was telling her that the meeting they would have soon would happen whether she wanted it or not and he would certainly find her if she did not show. Furthermore, she knew there would be consequences if she spoke about what had happened the night before. About the basilisk nearly attacking a student, about him speaking to the serpent, and Riddle reading her mind. She doubted Headmaster Dippet would believe her even if she tried. Dumbledore, however, very well might… but she would only be jeopardizing herself and the safety of the future if she revealed too much to the future headmaster—if she had not already completely screwed that up on her own.

She folded the note back up and stuck it in the waistband of her skirt. She approached the only door in the room and rested her hand upon its cool, brass knob. Hermione was unsure of what world awaited her beyond the Room of Requirement with Myrtle's potential survival having possible ramifications on the future. Regardless of the upheaval, she knew Riddle's existence would remain her constant and, in that moment, it was the only that brought her a modicum of relief. She summoned her Gryffindor bravery once more and opened the door.

Hermione walked the halls of Hogwarts with no issue. She passed by several students who seemed to be making their way to and from the infirmary. No doubt the firewhiskey had done them in. Several other students she passed, including a group of Gryffindors, seemed to be reveling in their hungover state as they appeared worse for wear and sickly pale. She carefully steered clear of them in the event that one decided to express their hangover in the form of vomiting on her shoes. Though it would have little impact on how rough she appeared when she first caught sight of herself in a mirrored section of a hallway. Stained skirt, matted hair, bloodon her jumper. At the sight of her appearance, she had quickly ushered herself into the nearest lavatory and did a quick cleansing and glamor charm on herself to minimize the battle-worn look she had. She still looked exhausted and her clothing contained wrinkles that she couldn't manage to get out, but it was an improvement.

It was Sunday and the light that filtered in from the high windows set the halls aglow in a way that only the waning fall sun could bring. From the angle of the sunlight, Hermione wagered it was early morning. Breakfast would be served in the Great Hall with plenty of greasy foods to nurse the students back to health. Her own stomach growled, but she couldn't dwell on breakfast—not until she checked on her friends. She had been missing the entire night. They had to be concerned.

Hermione made it to the Ravenclaw tower without incident and entered the common room. A few Ravenclaws milled about. Some sat by the fire with hot cups of cider while other seemed to have already begun study sessions for their finals, which would be arriving very soon. Everything seemed relatively normal. Hermione wasn't sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't a sense of everyday normalcy. Then again, there was no monster stalking the halls and assumedly no body to mourn when the sun rose. Why would it notbe just another day at Hogwarts?

Just as Hermione began to ascend the stairs to the dormitories, Christopher cut off her path, nearly toppling straight into her. He looked nearly as terrible as she felt. His hair was a mess, he had dark rings plaguing his eyes, and the sickly pallor of his face indicated a severe lack of sleep.

"Christopher! You made it back!" Hermione put her hands up to keep the boy from stumbling into her.

"Hermione?" He yawned. "Late night? I didn't see you after the ball… I assumed you made it back before all the craziness began."

"Yeah, sort of. I went looking for you last night, but I couldn't find you. The masquerade became too chaotic. I am positive Headmaster Dippet will cancel any Yule celebrations students are planning." Hermione felt awkward at pretending the reality of what she had experienced did not exist.

"Dippet will say that, but the Houses will be having their own parties in no time and he'll be none the wiser." Christopher waved off her concerns. "Aviela left for the Great Hall already. I ran into her in the common room a while ago. She said she hoped to meet up with you there."

"Well, I am awfully famished… Care to join me?" Hermione held out her crooked elbow to Christopher. Despite the charms she had cast on herself, she still felt grimy and dirty after going head to head with the basilisk and sleeping on her matted hair for hours, but she could bathe and rest after a much-needed breakfast and visit with her friends.

He considered her for a moment before carefully looping his arm into hers with a grin. In her eyes, Christopher had really become a close friend, but she wondered what held him back from extending the courtesy to those who cared for him. She often felt as though he elected to fade into the background around their other friends. She could tell Aviela had a history of overshadowing him, and yet another part of her panged with a worry that there was more to it than that. His chosen isolation concerned her. He did not have to feel alone. He wasn't alone.

On their way to the Great Hall, Christopher recounted Dippet's unprofessionally, humored reaction to discovering that the punch had been spiked with firewhiskey in comparison to Dumbledore's graveness. Hermione knew Dumbledore had a right to be worried, but still managed to smile lightly as Christopher mimicked Dippet's flighty intonation and tone. Hermione further thanked the heavens for Dumbledore and his future station he would hold at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Soon, the duo entered the Great Hall. Unlike the usual hum of hundreds of conversations being carried out at once and long tables that were filled to the brim with students, the Hall was much more quiet and students came and went as they pleased, grabbing whatever seemed appetizing and leaving for what Hermione assumed to be their own, respective dormitories. The houses were less segregated and more blended together as groups of students recounted the previous night's antics in quieter tones as to not agitate the headaches many of them contended with. A waving hand from across the room caught Hermione's eye. Aviela rested with one knee on the bench to gain leverage and arms waving high, trying to get Christopher's and her attention.

Hermione and Christopher unlinked arms and made their way toward the blond who was flagging them down. Next to Aviela sat Minerva and Hagrid, both quietly eating their breakfast, unharmed and looking well rested. Out of all the things she had possibly screwed up by intervening in Riddle's diabolical plans, this moment of peace with her new found friends and the hope that her friends in the future would someday share in the same contentment would make it worth it.

"Good morning," Hermione said as she and Christopher sat down on the bench across from the trio. Hermione secured plate from the stack at the table and passed one on to Christopher. Her stomach growled at the feast before her. Large dishes filled to the brim with pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage, and an assortment of breads steamed before her. A tray filled with various fruits wafted sweetly in the air. She grabbed a streusel muffin from the basket of fresh breads and began scooping scrambled eggs on to her plate. When Hermione heard no response, she looked back to her friends.

Aviela sat with her arms crossed and brow furrowed, appearing rather angry. Hagrid and Minerva ate silently, their heads down. She could've sworn a slight grin rested on Minerva's lips.

"Good morning?Good morning is all you say!" Aviela huffed and picked up a biscuit. She pelted Hermione with it. "You were gone all night and all you have to say is good morning? Especially after your ominous farewell. I think not, Hermione Sivad!" Another biscuit thrown her way. Hermione ducked, laughing.

She began laughing so hard that she fell back on the bench.

"It's not funny, Hermione!" Aviela leaned over the large tabletop, her hands pressed hard into the table's surface top as she peered down at her curly-headed friend. Despite the blonde's efforts to seem menacing, a smile threatened to make its way to the corner of her lips. "I was worried about you. Hogwarts can get really creepy at night."

"I am so sorry, Aviela. I didn't mean to frighten you. I am okay, I promise," Hermione reassured the girl by pushing herself back up on her elbows and smiling warmly at the group.

"Yes, we can see that, but where did you goafter your saw us to our dormitory?" Minerva asked between bites of toast with brightly colored fruit preserves on top. Aviela turned expectantly at the young witch, waiting with an eyebrow raised.

"I ran off in search of Christopher. I was worried he had gotten into the firewhiskey and needed help getting back to Ravenclaw tower." Hermione lied smoothly—though it wasn't a totallie, she assured herself. Christopher, himself, raised an eyebrow at her as a light blush crept upon his cheeks.

"Hermione… I'm flattered, but I can look after myself," Christopher said as he paused eating, "Your safety is more important than mine."

"Ugh, gag," Aviela interjected before Hermione could even debate with him. "My brother and you—both missing all night…?"

Minerva went red in the face at the accusation.

"It's not like that! I never even saw him..." Hermione put up a hand defensively. Aviela cast her squinted eyes down on Hermione's form, trying to piece apart her response. Aviela's eyes quickly widened and she reached forward, snatching something from Hermione's person. Before Hermione could even register what Aviela had, the petite witch had already unfolded the note, read it, and was starting—open mouthed—at Hermione.

"No way…" Aviela flashed her a knowing grin. Minerva and Hagrid's attention were drawn from their meal, to Aviela who stood with Tom Riddle's note in hand. Hermione tried to rush forward and grab the note, nearly shoving her hand in a bowl of pudding until Christopher acted quickly and whisked it out of her way, but Aviela danced out of her reach.

"What is it?" Minerva inquired, trying to lean over Aviela's shoulder. Aviela waved her off, cleared her throat and began. Hermione covered her face with her hands and groaned in anticipation of what she knew was coming.

"Miss Sivad…Ooh, how formal!" Aviela commented. "I think it is imperative that we meet again—and very soon." Aviela looked at Hermione nearly scandalized. "Please arrive promptly outside the Great Hall before dinner on the fifteenth of November. Until then, let us keep the moment we shared close. I eagerly await your arrival. Sincerely, Tom." Aviela practically screeched, clutching the note to her chest.

Hermione peeked between her fingers, her face red for all the wrong reasons. Christopher looked at her uncomfortably, appearing almost disgusted. Minerva's mouth had dropped, her glasses slid to the tip of her nose as she peered at Hermione over them. Hagrid took another bite of bacon—chewing furiously—waiting for somebody to saysomething.

"Tom who?" Hagrid breaking the pregnant pause that had taken place.

"Tom Riddle, of course," Aviela was full-blown smirking now. "So that'swhat you were up to last night at the ball, sharing a momentwith Slytherin's prefect! No wonder curfew was not a concern for you!"

Hagrid tilted his head at Hermione, eyes wide.

"It's not like that, Aviela. We just… talked." Hermione's stomach clenched. That was the understatement of the century.

"And Riddle would like for you to keep it secret and for you to meet with him again? All over a simple talk?" Aviela questioned her.

"It was a good talk," Hermione responded lamely. She was going to killRiddle. Minerva looked positively giddy, until her eyes trailed over to Christopher, who remained seated stock still beside her.

"Christopher, are you all right?" Minerva cast her full attention on the Ravenclaw boy who had now ceased eating. At her addressing of him, Christopher seemed to be pulled out of his reverie.

"What? Oh, I'm fine. I just… forgot something, is all." Christopher stood, wrapping his bread in a cloth napkin. "I need to go study. Finals will be here before we know it, right?" Christopher waved goodbye to the group and left the Great Hall in a hurry. Minerva frowned, appearing disappointed at his parting. Hermione's brow creased in worry. She knew he didn't trust Riddle and maybe even hated him, but to go as far as to just up and leave? It was something she made mental note of to ask him about later.

"So, do you plan on meeting him?" Aviela extended the folded note back to Hermione. Hermione retrieved the note and hid it more securely in her waistband this time by pulling her jumper down over top of it.

"Part of me believes I don't have a choice. I am sure he would hunt me down otherwise." Hermione took a full gulp of her orange juice, almost wishing the flavor of firewhiskey were filling her mouth instead.

"A fan of the chase, is he? How romantic!" Aviela swooned. Minerva winced a bit at her notions of what constitutes as romantic. Hermione gave the blonde girl a soured look. "All right, I'll stop, but this doesexplain the keen interest he seems to have taken in you."

"What do you mean?" Hermione inquired as she dished a few slices of bacon onto her plate.

"How he always seems to look for you when you enter the Great Hall for starters. Secondly, he seems to usually find you on our trips to Hogsmeade. Third, I heard about the dance you two shared at the Slug Club." Aviela placed her hands on her hips. "Don't think for a second I don't have insiders for the most exclusive club around!"

Hermione wasn't sure which was scarier: Riddle's plotting or Aviela's ability to be so observant and conscript others to act as her spies.

"Are ye scared to meet 'im?" Hagrid looked at her with concern. Hermione wanted to scream 'yes'until her answer bounced off the rafters in the hall, but she didn't want to frighten the young, half-giant. The further he stayed away from Riddle the better.

"No, Hagrid. I'm just nervous," Hermione reassured him.

"Whatever you choose to do, Hermione, we support you and your decision," Minerva said, looking earnestly at Hermione.

"She's right. I know plenty of hidden corridors perfect for snogging… or hiding a body. Whatever you need, we are with you," Aviela said, nodding in agreement with Minerva and finally having a seat once more.

"You can hide behin' me anytime yer needin' to. Perks of bein' a half-giant n' all," Hagrid offered up.

Hermione smiled widely. They made every second she spent facing down the basilisk worth it. On that thought, images of Myrtle hiding within a locked stall flashed within her mind. Riddle had said she was unharmed, but Hermione had to know… what had become of the wailing witch?

"Last night, while on my way to meet Riddle, I went into the girls' lavatory on the second floor. Myrtle Warren was sobbing uncontrollably in there. Any clue what that was about?" Hermione tried to appear aloof between bites of food.

"Oh yeah, I heard she went completely bonkers last night because she couldn't get a date to the Halloween Ball," Minerva said simply.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Supposedly, early this morning a student alerted Headmaster Dippet that the girls' lavatory on the second floor was a complete wreck and people were in there talking to one another," Aviela piped up.

"Katrina Hatfield, a Ravenclaw, told me that she had pulled all of the mirrors off the wall because she couldn't stand the sight of herself not in a ball gown," Minerva said.

"I am sure that's just hearsay," Hermione tried to brush the gossip away from the poor girl.

"Apparently she mentioned your name and said you fought a dragon, so that's something to add to your future resume," Aviela said. Minerva and Hagrid laughed. Hermione did not.

"So, as I fought this… dragon, how did Myrtle stay safe?" Hermione asked, unsure if she wanted to know the next answer.

"Well, Hector Savin said he overheard Myrtle talking to Headmaster Dippet and Dumbledore in the hall. He told me that she said a girl named Meredith protected her while you defeated the dragon, but, according to Hector, nobody else came out of the girls' lavatory," Aviela said. At the mention of Meredith, Hermione's thoughts flashed back to the dressmaker in Hogsmeade named Sue and her deceased daughter named Meredith. It couldn't be… could it?

"Such a sad thing that is, she was scared out o' her mind sounds like," Hagrid added.

"Maybe she'll finally get the help she needs now that she is away from Hogwarts," Minerva plucked a bunch of grapes from the fruit tray.

"What do you mean?" Hermione froze.

"She was completely inconsolable. St. Mungo's arrived shortly after dawn and took her away for evaluations and magical rehabilitation. You know, the loony bin," Aviela said.

"I heard St. Mungo's asylum is a terrifying place. The thought gives me chills," Minerva said, plucking grapes off the stem and popping them into her mouth one by one.

Hermione had saved Mrytle Warren from certain death, but she wandered what would become of the witch… and if some fates were worse than death.

Christopher strode up to the door of the Slytherin dungeons and waited, pacing back and forth like a madman. When a pair of Slytherin girls left the common room, Christopher pushed passed them and entered. Several Slytherins lounging around the common area caught sight of his Ravenclaw robes and furrowed their brows. Outsiders were not supposed to be in the Slytherin Dungeons. It was unheard of.

Although it wasn't the wisest course of action in trying to locate Tom Riddle, Christopher began scanning the room vigorously looking for the dark-haired, Slytherin prefect. The Slytherin common room was dim. Everything that wasn't cast in soft shadows harbored a dark green glow from light filtering in through the depths of the Great Lake into the high windows of the common area. The green light danced and sparkled with the waves and currents created by the lake's many creatures—some known and others not as much.

The furniture either had shiny leather surfaces or were plush and velveteen, but all were either black or dark green in coloration. Portraits of former great Slytherins hung around the room along with tapestries featuring medieval Slytherins. A fireplace rested at the furthest edge of the large room, its mantle harboring the portrait of a snake for the House's namesake. In front of the fireplace was a high-backed chair where an individual sat, long legs crossed, with a book in their lap. The pages turned on their own according. Christopher's eyes narrowed as he homed in on his target.

Christopher walked toward Riddle, but before he reached the chair he was intercepted by a hand on his chest, halting him from taking another step forward.

"Hey, Ravenclaw, you aren't supposed to be in here," the Black family heir stopped him.

"Get out of my way, Hadrian. I'd like to speak to the lordhimself," Christopher spat, shoving the Slytherin's arm down forcefully. Hadrian reared a fist back, prepared to strike.

"Christopher Goldstein, is it? Let him pass, Hadrian," Riddle said, waving his hand lazily.

"You bloody well know who I am," Christopher said as he rounded to stand beside the chair. Tom Riddle sat, reading a large tome. He looked much more put together than when Christopher had seen him walking the halls earlier that morning.

"Don't I?" Riddle replied. "What is it that troubles you so? I am beginning to run low on favors before they require payment—in the event that you need a reminder." Riddle's eyes never left the pages of the book.

"Fancied a late-night meeting with Hermione, did you? And here I thought we had 'precious little time to accomplish our goals,'" Christopher quoted him from the previous night.

"Plans change, though I am not sure why it is among your concern. She is unharmed, like I had promised." Riddle turned another page. Christopher moved to stand in front of the fireplace, his form blotting out the light, casting Riddle's book pages in darkness. The Slytherin heir chuckled and closed his book, humoring the Ravenclaw who stood deep within the pit of vipers. "Go on. You have my undivided attention."

Christopher looked at the Slytherins who now murmured quietly to one another in the common room. Hadrian leaned against a nearby cabinet, arms folded, watching Christopher's every move. Christopher stood his ground.

"The date on the note you gave her… That's the night of—" Christopher began.

"Yes, I am aware," Riddle said, squaring a look at Christopher as though challenging him to dare speak another word so loudly.

"Leave Hermione out of this," Christopher seethed, his voice lowered. The common room door swung open, pulling Hadrian and Christopher's attention briefly. Abraxas walked in holding a plate of pancakes he had swiped from the Great Hall. Abraxas paused at seeing the Ravenclaw standing opposite of Riddle. His brow furrowed.

"Christopher? What are you doing here?" Abraxas sat his full plate on a nearby table and walked to the group at the fireplace.

"He invited Hermione… Fifteenth of November," Christopher never took his eyes off of Riddle's aloof appearance when he spoke to Abraxas. If looks could kill, Christopher was sure that Riddle would be on his deathbed from the glare he was sending the Slytherin prefect.

"What do you mean?" Abraxas questioned, looking between Riddle and Christopher.

"What he means is I saw potential in Miss Sivad," Riddle said, tapping his fingers in a staccato atop the pages of his open book.

"Is she…" Abraxas looked around the common room and lowered his voice. "Is she the reason for our change of plans last night?"

"In part, yes," Riddle said.

"Leave Hermione out of this, Riddle. She's just another student and poses no threat to us," Christopher reasoned.

"Tom… We walk a fine line—a dangerousone," Abraxas lowered his voice, "and I'm not sure if Hermione should get involved." Abraxas maintained a look of concern on his face. It had been his initial request, after all, to ensure Hermione's safety by striking a bargain with Riddle.

On Riddle's terms, Hermione's safety had been ensured before the basilisk was released. In exchange for her safety, Abraxas abandoned his plans of asking Hermione to the ball in favor of acquiescing to Riddle's decision to take her to the masquerade, where he would personally ensure her safety. Abraxas and Christopher had known there was more to it than that: Riddle had long been suspicious of Hermione and her unusual arrival. Neither Abraxas nor Christopher had felt comfort in this trade off, but Riddle had kept his word to them thus far. Even still, Hermione remained unharmed. Abraxas was sure of it, as he had made eye contact with the witch in the Great Hall a little under a half an hour ago.

"As touching as it is to see you both fuss over Miss Sivad like mother hens, I would wager that neither of you know the girl half as well as you think you do—or would liketo," Riddle said, rising from his place on the chair. He walked over to Hadrian who was still leaned against a nearby bookshelf. "Hadrian, how many times have I forgone my word and jeopardized our organization?"

"None that I can recall," Hadrian replied.

"Have I yet deceived you when an opportunity has presented itself to do so?" Riddled asked.

"Not to my knowledge, my lord." Hadrian bowed his head. Christopher rolled his eyes. Hadrian was always a stickler for allegiance. Riddle turned to Abraxas and Christopher.

"Then know few things would keep me from my plans unless they were imperative to be addressed," Riddle said. "Hermione Sivad is not your ordinary Hogwarts student. I have long suspected this, and my suspicions were confirmed last night. Based on what I have learned of her, she would prove to be an asset to our organization. Therefore, I took the courtesy to put forth an invitation she simply could not refuse."

"Coercion," Abraxas said.

"Blackmail," Christopher spat. The Ravenclaw boy made to take another step forward when Abraxas extended an arm into his path, giving him a look almost as if to say not here.

"Call it what you wish, but I have reason to believe that her presence at Hogwarts poses more danger to those around her than we ever could." Riddle adjusted the cuffs of his long, white shirt beneath his Slytherin sweater vest. "Believe me, Goldstein, when I say that her joining our ranks would not only keep Miss Sivad safe, but also ensure the safety of your sister and that mouse of a girl in Gryffindor you seem to also have taken interest in."

Christopher failed to see how Hermione—the girl he braided flower bracelets and dined with in Hogsmeade—could harbor such a dangerous air about her, as Riddle had claimed. He knew Riddle would not delve deeper and provide his reasoning now—not when he was within earshot of several Slytherins who were eagerly listening as they pretended to play wizard's chess or study throughout the common room. His only solution would be to wait for the fifteenth to arrive to learn what transpired that had been so significant as for Riddle to halt his plans that had been in the works for years now.

"November, then?" Abraxas toed the rug at the fireplace, hands now balled into fists in his pockets, Christopher noted. The Malfoy heir knew better than to challenge Riddle right now.

Riddle nodded and proceeded to pick up his book before making his departure. He passed Hadrian, who bowed his head deeply; Abraxas, who nodded sharply; and stopped in front of Christopher, towering over him.

"I advise you not to pry at Miss Sivad for more information about last night," Riddle said barely above a whisper to the Goldstein twin. "You have no idea what you are up against."

"I am not afraidof you, Riddle," Christopher said back, even though he knew his statement was only a partial truth. Riddle's mouth curled into a sinister smile, as though he knew something Christopher did not.

"Despite how entertaining it is to watch you shake in your loafers while laying claims to bravery, I wasn't speaking of myself," Riddle said. "Miss Sivad is running from a darkness so deep that your coddled mind and agreeable life would not allow you to begin to comprehend what she has faced." Riddle was almost seething at this point.

"And you could fathom such a darkness?" Christopher struggled to force himself still in the face of Riddle, especially after what the young man had nearly accomplished the night before.

"Yes, I could," Riddle replied, his eyes looking through Christopher as though he were searching for something far beyond his reach. He walked past the Ravenclaw boy before pausing to look over his shoulder. "Like calls to like, Mr. Goldstein. It is by no accident that Hermione Sivad and I were to meet in this lifetime. Of that, I am certain."

The Slytherin prefect walked out of the common room door, leaving Abraxas, Christopher, and Hadrian puzzled. For as long as the young men had known Tom Marvolo Riddle, he had articulated to them that each individual was in control of their own respective destinies, with no gods and no masters to bind them. For as long as the young men had known Tom Marvolo Riddle, he made it clear that they, alone, were in charge of their fates.

But, for the first time, Tom Marvolo Riddle spoke as though he was not the sole architect in the designing of his destiny. For the first time, he spoke as though he were a man capable of believing in something beyond himself.

A/N: Thank you all for reading! Again, sorry it took so long. Tom is finally starting to come around at least. lol

The next few chapters are going to be fun because it will feature the setting of Christmas at Hogwarts! Which, in my mind, is always a bit fun, romantic, and dangerous along the way-perfect for a Tomione fic. Hopefully the next one will go up this upcoming weekend!

Please leave a review, follow, and favorite to let me know how you all are enjoying the story so far!

Happy December, folks!

Constant Vigilance!

-VS