The first night in magical heaven
She cries herself to sleep

Come morning all her tears have run dry.
Tom hadn't gone anywhere
He was still here
Just not as close as she'd like him to be
But has anything really changed?
No

Everything they desired was still at their reach.

She doesn't see Tom at breakfast.
Sits with her classmates and only half listens to them speaking.
They're supposed to be the clever ones
And none of them seem to know the things about Hogwarts that she knows.

Had none of them bothered to read the history book?
Had they not opened their textbooks?
Did they not make notes?
Well good luck to them!

She makes notes.
She pays attention
She puts effort into it.
She might already know everything they were going to teach her at classes this year
But she could find out how this world works.
How the theory of magic works.
She could find levels of it on her own.

So she writes down everything that might matter.
Every side remark and notion
All hints to more complicated elements.
Note them down for further inspection.

No one else seems to bother.
They're too struck in their awe and excitement
Letting their emotions get on the way.
Tom had taught her how to use that on her benefit.
How to lead people astray with feelings.
How to stay collected and look at the bigger picture.
How to gather information others are too overwhelmed to take into account.

Dumbledore teaches them Transfiguration
And eyes her with such curiosity and vigilance she briefly wonders what she could have done to make him so persistent.

By now she has already gathered that it's not common to be able to read thoughts through people's eyes. It's complicated magic and people were born with or without potential to it.
Her first hours in the wizarding world Dumbledore is the only one who has tried to enter her thoughts.
She feels him every time he catches her eye. He's looking for something
Something she is not going to give him for free.

Also she doesn't think it's polite to try and read other people's minds without asking permission.
She doesn't believe she much likes Professor Dumbledore.

After her lessons she goes to the library.
Partly enthusiastic to see it.
And partly hoping to find Tom.

He's already there
Sitting by a table next to big windows.
Head bent to the book He's reading.

She feels her heart warm when she notices him.
Like it's been a far longer time since they've been separated.
He lifts his head and sees her.
Jumps up from the chair and gives her a barely there smile.
and she runs for it.
Sprints through the floor and swings her hands around him.
Grips the back of his robes and buries her face into his chest.

"Hey," He mutters into her hair.
And she's home.
She's safe
She's not alone

.

.

The library is a goldmine
Almost any question can be answered there.
She and Tom agree to study together on three or four evenings a week.

They sit there
With piles of books around them
Notes spread around the table
Without exchanging a word their notes switch from hand to hand.
Without having to word the question aloud they pass books back and forth.
Abraxas and Lestrange try to join them once or twice but give up trying to keep up an hour later.

"They think they're better." Tom tells her with resent in his voice, "Because their blood is pure. They think they have rights over muggleborns."

"Do they bully you?" She asks immediately

But Tom laughs coldly, "I'd like to see them try."

Only a month into their first year the teachers already adore Tom.
He's polite, clever and charming.
She's just as clever as him but her social awkwardness sets them apart.
Most teachers barely notice her.
She's fine with it.

Eventually she makes friends among her own house too.
The girls she shares a dorm with, Lucy and Millie, take her under their wing.
Tom tells her he doesn't like them.
But she ignores him.
He's not there
They're sorted apart
And she isn't going to spend her school years miserable and alone because of him.

She tells him that.
And he understands
But still constantly eyes her other friends with apprehension.
She learns to ignore it.

The first year flies past.
Happy and full of new extraordinary things.

Tom tries to follow the tracks of his mother to find out his family line.
She doesn't quite understand his obsession
Doesn't get how it changes anything to know his inheritance?

"Among my house, family names mean everything. Like over half of your worth is defined by the name. They'll never respect me enough if I don't know where I came from." He informs her and opens yet another book about wizarding families.

"And what if it isn't anything important? What if you're a muggleborn?" She huffs opening a book of her own.

She might not understand all his reasons, but it doesn't mean she wouldn't help him.

"Then I'll make it up. That's the other reason to know enough! To be able to lead them astray." A curl hangs on his face, escaping from his tamed hair.

She looks at him long after he's already buried deep into his book.
Tom never does anything in halves

We're going to rule the world

.

.

He finds his ancestors.
Slams the parchments ahead of her and gleams of pride.

"I knew it!"

He's the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself.
The parseltongue is an inherited ability.
The magic in his veins is generations old.
He's powerful
Important
Rightful to dominate.

She smiles at him
But can't help the envy in her chest flickering like a flame.

He also finds out about the Chamber of Secrets.

All summer between first and second year they try to find evidence about it.
And about the monster that's supposed to live there.

"I don't get this detest towards muggleborns." She tells Tom one day when the sun is shining brightly and the bushes in the yard of the Orphanage are big enough to give them privacy to study magic without curious eyes following them.

"It's a thing in Slytherin. Like they were going to steal their magic. It's foolish really, like any line could survive too long without new blood. I think none of them have even a basic understanding of biology."

"Wouldn't be the first thing people don't have even a basic understanding about…" She mutters, flipping her book.

Tom doesn't like many people
But it's not because of their blood she thinks.

It's more about their resentment towards his house.
Slytherins aren't well liked among other students. Especially among those who have one or two muggle parents.
Partly she understands that their obnoxious attitude enrages people. But at least she knows she can beat most of them in any subject.

So why should their good-for-nothing expectations and skepticism mean anything to her?

Tom hates excuses
Can not stand when people put the blame of their own stupidity in the name of something outside of their control.
Blaming Slytherin makes him see red.
And when Tom sees red
No one is preserved.

He knows what he wants
And how to get it.

After the first year he already has people to do things for him.
Get books from the restricted section
Find reasons for detentions
Ways to dodge house points .
Ways to find out things about others
Things he might use to his advantage.

Tom is the personification of Slytherin
Every trait the house values...
Briefly she thinks it was stupid of her to not figure out his origin sooner.

.

.

Second year, Professor Slughorn invites them to join his Slug club.
She's so proud she could burst out of her skin. But tries to conceal it the best she can.

Slughorn only collects the most promising students.

Tom's obsession with the Chamber of Secrets gets out of hand.
They study together less and less.

Lestrange and Malfoy seem to always be there, beside Tom.
And since they've found out she still doesn't know her inheritance they've started to act like she's not that interesting person anymore.
Like she's nothing to them anymore.

Once Tom stood up for her.
But he doesn't do it anymore.
She pretends it doesn't bother her.

By the beginning of their third year she's not sure if she really knows Tom like she used to anymore.

They study together on weekends
Those limited moments he meets her eyes
Offers her that rare true smile
Might even brush her hand gently.
Let his walls slip a little.

Those are the only moments she still knows him.
The moments he's still her Tom.

Otherwise she observes him from a distance.
Sees him wearing that disguise of pleasant indifference and power.
Like he never takes it out in public anymore.

Professor Dumbledore does not trust him, He complains frequently

And she doesn't trust Professor Dumbledore.
Because he's wearing a mask too.
Prettier than Tom
Nicer than Tom
But a mask.

It never slips.
But she knows it's there.
She suspects it's not that different from Tom.
Dumbledore yearns for power.
And the mask is just a vessel to get it.

Just like Tom.

.

.

The yearn to learn more and more
And the speed in which they can absorb new information takes them to the darkest corners of the restricted section.

Dark magic fascinates her.
And scares her all the same
The things you could achieve when the moral barriers don't hold you back…
The ways to harness power in a manner light magic never allows you to do.

Tom isn't frightened by it.
Of course he isn't
Why let something so trivial as fear get in the way?

"No power is worth anyone's life." She tries to tell him.
Not really sure if she believes it, even herself.

"Tom?" She pressures when he doesn't answer her.

"What if losing one might save hundreds of others?" He asks, not meeting her eyes.

In the summer Abraxas loans Tom books from his family library.
Books from times when there was no stigma over dark magic.
They're partly disturbing and horrid
But on the other hand they call her like sirens in the open stormy sea.

"Dark magic is considered dark only because it pours power from your life force. Dark magic needs intent to work." Tom explains to her, "there are dark curses to harm but also to heal. It's a human thing to consider darkness and evil the same. Magic knows no good and evil. Only power and those too weak to seek it."

Somewhere in the back of her mind she doesn't like to admit his right.
Because she knows the seduction of power.
She knows the adrenaline rush it gives you.
She knows how it addicts you and makes you reluctant to give it up.

But on the other hand if the power is stable and only the beholder changes…
Then isn't it better to hold onto it than give it in someone else's hands?

She and Tom
They could handle it
They could hold it
They could use it evenly
They could
She knows it

.

.

"What are you to say, Mudblood." Lestrange stares down at her.

She's just glaring at him.
What did he just say?

The compartment is dead silent.
No one says a word.
She looks at Tom
Who just looks back at her.

I'll always be yours

It feels like falling into a black void
Loneliness pours over her like a tsunami
She could stand up for herself
She could hex Lestrange's sorry arse right there.
But the emptiness in Tom's eyes holds her back.

Five years ago
In this same compartment he made sure they shook her hand too.
Today he says nothing

Not when she tells Leatrange to "Fuck off, will you?"

Not when she stands up and states her company seems to no longer be respected here.

Not when she tells them, "This is exactly why the rest of the school resents you."

She flees to sit with her housemates.
And in the loneliness of her poster bed sheds a tear for something that came to end today.

Tom comes to study with her on the weekend as usual.
They don't bring it up
But she knows
And he must know too
Things will never be the same again.

.

.

That same year the topic of the first months in the term is the Halloween Masquerade ball.
The upper years can't stop talking about dresses and dates.
Somehow she gets hooked up in the excitement.

Tom just huffs when she mentions it in their weekend study session.
Tom is above things like fancy clothes and dancing.

Somehow it irritates her.
Even though she knew his response in advance.
She knew!
But it still gnaws her nerves more than it should.

They always go to the Slug club parties together.
There has never even been a question about either of them bringing a date.
But it's because they're both in the club.
Who else would she even take there besides Tom?

Girls in her dorm talk about boys
They've talked about them before but until now it has been somewhat innocent
Giggling about crushes
Recently the tone is quite different.

Girls in her dorm talk about Tom too.
Sixth year prefects talk about Tom in rounds.
Girls talk about Tom
She snickers secretly
if they only knew what Tom thought about them…
How their silly teenage crushes meant nothing to Tom.

But what about her? They ask

She and Tom aren't together.
They've interrogated that from her enough of times
Like asking her for a promise to go for Tom.

"I grew up with Tom. He's my best friend." She smiles and adds, "Like a brother."

But the words feel wrong on her tongue.
Definition of best friend feels hollow.

If she's not with Tom then who is it she has eyes for?
No one, she wants to say.
She has eyes for books
For conquering magic
For having her name written in history books.

But for boys?
The too nice, sweet guys in Hufflepuff?
The outrageous, loud jokers of Gryffindor?
The uptight - thinking they know something but have good intentions- boys in her house?
Or the pureblooded self crowned royalty of Slytherin?

No

She doesn't need any of them.
There's too much in her for anyone to keep up, she thinks.

Still she says yes when a sixth-year prefect, Michael McMillian from her house, asks her to be his date at the ball.

He's nice enough
Decent enough company
And good looking enough
To deserve a chance.

Millie and Lucy help her find a dress.
A ridiculously full orange and black tulle gown, with a corsage top that reveals more than it hides.
It's just the right amount of too much to attract attention.
Just enough forthright to make her stand up from the crowd.

She feels beautiful in it.
Sexy
For the first time in her life.

On the night of the event she charms glitter spiders to climb in her hair.
Hides half of her face with a black veil
Looks into the mirror and feels...powerful

Michael seems to appreciate her appearance too.
Because for the first two hours of the ball he doesn't let go of her for one minute.
His hand is always either holding hers
Or on the small of her back, like an imprint she's his.

She isn't though
But she likes the admirable stares
And the feel of self confidence the boy's affections give her.

Until she sees Tom.
In the corner of the room
Wearing a renaissance suit
Surrounded by his gang

Looking gloom and angry
His gaze not leaving her for a second.

She feels his eyes on her
Even when she tries not to look at him.

Guilt rises like a bile to her throat
Makes her hands sweaty.
Michael's hand on her starts to feel heavy
Too much
And she has to fight the urge to slap him away.

The corsage of her dress squeezes her ribs
Makes breathing an accomplishment

To distract herself she leads Michael to the dance floor.
But it's no help.

Tom seems to have lost all interest in engaging himself in a conversation.
He's just standing there by the wall
Like a dark shadow rising to cloud her sky.

Once she makes the mistake of locking eyes with him.
And the temperature of the hall drops at least ten degrees
Freezing the smile on her lips

He looks mad
Dark and destructive.

She stops mid step.

"I'm sorry Michael. I don't feel well." She tears her eyes from Tom and looks at her confused date, "I got to go."

Before he gets to say anything she has bolted out the hall.

The hems of her dress tangle to her feet
Slowing her down
She collects more fabric to her fists and keeps going.
Stupid party
Stupid dress
Stupid stupid heart that doesn't stop bounding
And Stupid fucking Tom who has the ability to ruin everything without even uttering a word!

Tears gather into her eyes
But she refuses to cry for him!
There's no reason!
He has no fucking Right to make her feel like this!

She doesn't hear him
Not before he snatches her hand, whirls her around and shoves her to the wall.
Hard

His fingers find her throat
just under her jaw.
And when she gazes at him he looks more than angry
Enraged
And maybe a little insane

She used to be able to tell if he's for real
At the moment,
With her own emotions in danger to pour over
She has no idea if he's pretending or not.

"What the fuck you're playing at?" He spits out.
Intense and dangerous.
His fingers add pressure
But she hardly notices.

"Nothing! I was trying to enjoy the party."

"Don't fucking lie to me!" He hisses "No one lies to me!"

She tries to kick him.
But he senses her intent and moves
Just enough to make her feet hit only air.

"Fuck you Tom!"

He bends closer
His dark frame over her, eyes blazing
Like a demon.

"You're mine!" His words radiate through her.
Send shivers down her spine
And tingle on her skin.

She lifts her jaw and grits her teeth.
And when she speaks her tone is even,
Dark and full of pride

"I am my own. You can't claim to own people."

His grip only tightens and she briefly considers how much pressure will stop the airflow?
Her head already feels hazy.

"You made a promise."

For the first time she really comprehends Tom could be dangerous.
But she knows him too well to be scared of him.
She's not one of the pawns on his game board.

"Fuck that." She lifts her hands around his wrist, still on her throat, "I'm not unconditional! If you want me to be yours then fucking treat me like I'm yours!"

The effect of her words is instant
The hue in his eyes changes
And his grip diminishes
Just an inch
But enough for her to notice his retreat.

She grabs the front of his shirt to shove him further away from her.
He takes a step
But somehow she doesn't push
But pulls
And the step he takes isn't further
But closer.

His hands drop from her and cage her between the wall and his body.
And then his lips are on hers.

Their first kiss is angry
A crash against each other
She clutches his shirt and he might be trying to bite her lower lip.
She tastes blood
But also him
Feels him - like for the first time ever.

They've been close
Held hands
and each other
Like sister and brother
Not like this

The fire his lips ignite is foreign for her
The burn inside of her is new
Like her whole core quivers with their kiss.

She lied to him…

She's his
Everything about her is his
Every fibre of her being
Every inch belongs to him.

And he
He might think he's the one to hold power over her.
But with what just happened
When even the thought she might want someone else made him mad with jealousy
He's hers just as much
Maybe even more