A/N Hey y'all. I just wanted to say a quick thank you to anybody still reading this fic. I started writing it when I was about thirteen, and it evolved a lot between then and when I started posting it in 2015. I'm 23 now, and Alexa has been a part of my life for ten years, which is so weird to think about. I also wanted to apologize for the delay in this chapter-it's been a hectic summer/fall. Since May I've graduated college, moved, started working full time, and gotten married. I'm just feeling really sentimental about this story. Anyway, enough blabbering on, here's the next chapter 3. Also, for the purposes of the fic, only the original seven books are cannon.
The bright side of being trapped in the common room with Tom Riddle for the entirety of the holiday break was that it was very easy to keep track of him. Dippet had decided, for everyone's safety, it was better to limit the movement of students around the castle. Only three days had passed, and Alexa was already pacing the common room like a caged animal.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Tom asked finally, snapping his books shut.
"I don't like this," she huffed, plopping down on the sofa next to him, slouched down and disgruntled.
Tom looked at her, lips pressed together as if suppressing a chuckle, "I hadn't noticed."
"I can make it more clear if you'd like?" she offered.
He winced, "I'm alright thanks."
She playfully swatted him with a throw pillow, "Awfully rude, Mr. Riddle."
"So we turn to violence now?" he asked, aghast, hand on his chest.
She snorted and was about to respond when lunch appeared on what had previously been a table for studying.
"Great, I'm starving," Tom said, rising and tossing the pillow back at her.
"You're always starving," she rolled her eyes.
"You've got a letter," Tom called, ignoring her comment.
"Weird," she murmured, before realizing that probably wasn't the correct response to getting mail. The thin, curly writing was oddly familiar. She ripped it open, pulling the piece of parchment out to examine.
Alexa,
Regarding our previous conversation at the pub, I would request that you meet me in front of the Three Broomsticks at ten pm. I trust you will come prepared.
A.D.
Excitement bubbled up in her stomach. She was finally going to have an excuse to get out. To do something. Alexa tucked it into her pocket, sitting down opposite Tom.
"Exciting news?" he asked, digging in with impressive force.
"Nah, just the Leaky Cauldron confirming my reservation for summer," she shrugged.
He frowned, "You're staying in the Leaky Cauldron over the summer?"
Alexa nondded, "Yep, renting a room for all of the break." she paused, realizing he was looking at her still. "I don't have anywhere else to go," she shrugged. He looked down at his plate of food.
"I'll be in London not far from there," Tom said, "Maybe we can get together?"
"That would be fun," she smiled. He nodded, and went back to his food.
Time could not pass quickly enough. She was sure Tom was regretting getting them trapped there.
"I'm going to bed," Alexa told him at 9:45.
"Goodnight Alexa," he said pleasantly.
"G'night Tom."
She refrained from jogging up the stairs.
Alexa wasted no time in getting ready, quickly pinning her hair up so it would stay out of her face. She changed into an indigo turtleneck tucked into black, high waisted, wide legged pants. Winter boots and a heavy black overcoat that was somewhere between a jacket and a cloak completed the look. Not noticeably un-wizard, but not noticeably wizard either. Best of all, the coat had a pocket that perfectly concealed a dagger. It wasn't Roman, just a plain dagger with a six inch blade that was vaguely medieval in design. She'd gotten it before the term started, wanting a weapon that was both easily concealed and gave no hint to her Roman ancestry. Victory red lipstick finished the look. With a spin, she slipped into the shadows.
"So, what's the situation, Dumbledore?"
Her future-former headmaster jumped violently when she emerged from the shadows beside him.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked more tired than usual. He was dressed in plain, dark clothing, like her he had settled for something not noticeably wizard or muggle.
"There's a pub in Bristol that may be being used as a meeting place for some low ranking followers of Grindelwald-"
"Where is this information coming from?" Alexa interrupted, "And how do we know it's not a trap?"
"I have my trusted sources," he arched a brow, as if challenging her.
"Always did like your spies, didn't you?" she pressed her lips together. Regardless of whether Snape hadn't truly been a Death Eater he was still an evil asshole who got off on bullying children.
"I take it you have an issue with that?" he asked.
She shrugged, "Good spies usually aren't good people, at least in my experience."
Albus gave her a wry smile, "I never said they were."
"Fair enough," she shrugged, "so what's the plan? I go in and check out if they're meeting in the back?"
"I think it's best if you don't go alone, even if it's unlikely there will be a fight. If the pub is being used, then it's only an information center."
"And they won't recognize you?" Alexa asked, crossing her arms, "They won't know me and I have a slight advantage when it comes to stealth."
"It would be irresponsible of me to allow you to go alone-regardless of your," he gestured, looking for the correct word, "origin, you are still my student. If anything were to happen to you, I would be responsible."
She stared at him, eyebrows raised, but he just stared back at her, clearly serious.
"Alright," she shrugged, although she couldn't shake the feeling of dread knotting in her stomach.
He nodded, "Excellent. Now, all we're doing is observing. We'll go in, get a drink, see who comes in. If there seems to be anything suspicious, you will slip away to the ladies' room and investigate as you see fit. No fighting, no problems. I predict this will take no more than a few hours. It may even be a pleasant break from the common room."
"I can't really argue with that," she shrugged.
"Shall we?" he offered his arm.
With a pop and a flood of nausea they arrived in an alley, presumably in Bristol. Alexa released his arm and straightened her coat. The pub was an old building that sat on the border between charmingly aged and shabby.
The inside of the pub was sparsely populated. One group of three, a middle aged, balding man, and two younger men not much older than Alexa. On the other side of the room was a stand alone witch, mid thirties, cigarette lit and an impressively sized pile of ash already in front of her. The last person was the barman, a grizzled old wizard who was wiping a glass far more
aggressively than necessary.
Albus ordered them two pints of ale and Alexa picked a table towards the unoccupied side of the pub, although the place was so small it scarcely mattered. He sat across from her, facing the door with a grim expression. She stared down at the scuffed table for a moment. There was only one person upstairs.
"So," she began, taking a sip from her brew, "The Christmas decorations look nice this year."
"Don't they?" Albus agreed. "It's a shame they're not being appreciated." He glanced at her, eyebrow quirked.
"Considering this is the second time you don't figure out what's going on," Alexa smiled, "You're going to have to trust my methods."
"I do have my guesses," Albus countered. "Petrification isn't wholly common in the wizarding world. I've been working on a hunch."
"I don't doubt that," she snorted. "There's been plenty of time for scheming."
"How has your time with Riddle been?" he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"He mostly just reads while I pace around," she shrugged, "He's a bit boring honestly. Won't even let me copy his homework."
"I know you are not suggesting to me that you're cheating on your school work," Albus said through pursed lips.
"I wouldn't say it's a suggestion."
He sighed and drank his beer. They sat in silence. Alexa's leg bounced steadily as she tried to check her watch less frequently. Fifteen minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. An hour. The chain smoking woman vanished her pile of ashes and left. One of the younger men, the one with scarlet hair, went to the restroom and returned.
"Bit quiet," Alexa commented.
"We'll see," Albus replied, a strange gleam in his eye.
Another forty five minutes passed.
Two witches, hoods drawn, entered the pub, whispering to each other. For a brief moment one of them looked past her and Alexa caught a glimpse of a pretty, pale face. Upon seeing them, the barman nodded. He propped the swing door that led behind the counter open and they entered, slipping behind a curtain. Alexa saw the flash of a stairway. Moments later, the bartender was back, and walked quickly to murmur something to the men in the corner.
"I'm going to run to the loo," Alexa told Albus, slipping out of her seat.
The three men rose, their chairs grinding across the floor.
"Albus Dumbledore," the elder of the three said in a grisled voice. The barkeep darted out the front door.
"I told you so," Alexa groaned, glancing at Albus. He gave her a sharp look.
"Avada-!" the red headed man yelled. Wordlessly Albus raised his wand. A table flew across the room and slammed into him, throwing him across the room. Alexa began shooting off spells rapid fire, kicking their own table over and crouching behind it.
"Three upstairs haven't moved," Alexa said.
"Three?" Dumbledore asked. Neither one of them stopped throwing spells as they spoke.
"Three!"
The other young man made a run for the bar, vaulting over the counter.
Albus took off after him, a great serpent of fire erupting from the tip of his wand.
"Great teamwork," Alexa muttered, watching the two run up the stairs. The fire had stopped from the man across the room, and she froze, searching out for their life. There was only one, the ginger who'd been hit with a table was-
"Protego!" Alexa shouted, just as a blast of red came shooting from her right.
The ginger man snarled, dodging as she sent another curse his way. The other, older man was creeping around the edge of the room, trying to get towards the stairway. As much as Alexa didn't want to reveal there was anything inhuman about her, it wasn't the time to hold back. She slipped into the shadows and emerged with her wand pressed against the red-head's back.
"Scalpere Carne!" she hissed. The man let out an awful, animal scream and fell to the floor convulsing from the pain. A pool of crimson grew beneath him.
She turned just in time to see the other man bolt behind the curtain. Alexa wasted no time in chasing after him, taking the stairs two at a time.
Bursting into the room upstairs she found broken furniture and Albus furiously dueling the two terrified witches. There was another room behind them where she could feel that third mystery person just sitting and waiting.
She barely had time to absorb the scene before an explosion rocked the room from Dumbledore's wand. Alexa had to throw herself to the floor to avoid debris from Albus's friendly fire. Squinting through the smoke she scrambled to her feet, ears still ringing from the blast.
Suddenly her wand flew from her hand. The man she'd chased up the stairs had disarmed her, but rather than finishing her the tall man turned towards Albus and raised his wand. She charged forward, shoulder down, and tackled him, sending them both backwards, crashing through the window. Everything was momentarily white as they hit the snow. Alexa landed mostly on the man but her left shoulder hit the ground hard, sending a shock of fiery pain down her arm. The man shoved at her, trying to get her off, but she grabbed his neck with her good hand, shoving her palm against his wind-pipe with all her weight. He grabbed her face and shoved, dislodging her from his throat and throwing her off balance and onto her injured shoulder. She gasped, vision blurring, stunned just long enough for his flailing boot to connect with her face.
The taste of metal filled her mouth and all she could do was reach for her knife, plunging it forward into the joint of his elbow. He screamed and grabbed her hair. Blindly she struck out again, piercing through the joint of his armpit. Alexa ripped his knife out of him and rolled to her feet, clutching her arm. In a flash of shadow she was back upstairs, her wand back in her hand.
She knocked out one of the witches from behind with a particularly nasty stinging hex.
The second witch threw herself on top of her fallen friend and the two vanished with a bang!
Alexa turned, ready to continue the fight, but stopped short. Dumbledore was standing absolutely still, staring at the man in front of him. His blond hair was streaked with grey and the predatory grin on his ghaunt, white face sent a chill down her spine.
"Albus," he had an accent, something eastern European, "What a...surprise."
Fuck this, she thought.
Alexa lunged forward and grabbed Albus, pulling them both into the shadows, no destination in mind. They came tumbling out of the shadows and sprawled in the snow. Alexa gasped as the wind was knocked out of her and the ice burned her hands and face.
"Who the fuck was that?" she demanded, unable to rise farther than her hands and knees. Her left arm gave out and she tumbled back into the snow, swearing as her shoulder hit the ground. Her body was shaking, both from the travel and the cold.
Dumbledore sat in the snow, expression blank. She wracked her brain, trying to recognize the gaunt and pale face of the man with the accent. Who could have made Albus react that way?
"No!" she exclaimed, "Grindelwald?" she demanded.
Albus sighed, standing up and offering her a hand. She took it with her good arm. With a pop they appeared in front of the castle. She pulled them through the rest of the way, right back into Dumbledore's classroom.
Alexa staggered, her knees buckling in exhaustion. Albus lurched forward to catch her, easing her back so she was sitting on his desk.
"Did you know?" she asked quietly, "Did you lie to me?"
"I had hoped it wouldn't come to that-"
"Did you know he might be there?" she shouted.
` "I knew it was a possibility," Dumbledore finally admitted quietly.
She spluttered, rage seizing her, "You-knew?"
"It wasn't your concern," he said, tone cool.
"Not my-" white noise was filling her ears. She felt like she was going to throw up, the anger churning her stomach. Alexa was acutely aware of the knife gripped in her hand.
"As I said-"
"Shut up," she growled. "Don't say another fucking word-!" she shoved herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the table-top, knife pointed out at him as he retreated several steps back.
"You set us up," she snarled, "You old bastard-"
"You're injured," Albus raised his hands, trying to placate her, "Sit down so I can heal you."
"You risked both our lives so you could see your ex-boyfriend!" she yelled. Albus froze, eyes narrowing.
"Alexa-"
"I am the only reason we are still alive," she could feel her legs tremble, "Don't ever ask me for help again. You're on your own, Albus."
"I understand you're upset, let me explain-"
"I don't want to hear your bloody explanation!" she glared, shoving her knife into her pocket. She needed to leave before she actually attacked him. She was too tired and in too much pain to shadow travel.
She stormed out of the room, making it only a short ways down the corridor before she had to lean heavily against the wall, her head pounding. The ringing in her ears wouldn't die down. It had been a really stupid choice to jump out the window. She was lucky she wasn't hurt more-and that she had landed on the man. Once she got back to the common room she would use magic to clean herself up, take some nectar, and go to sleep. She'd deal with her injuries in the morning.
Taking a deep breath, she made her trek to the dungeons.
"Menthe," she muttered, and the blank expanse of stone split apart to reveal a door.
"Alexa?!"
A sudden, icey chill went down her spine, and she was wide awake. The lamps were all still lit, making the room violently bright after the dim torches of the corridors. Tom was awake. Sitting up by the fire, in his pjs, and staring at her. It was two in the morning. Son of a bitch.
He rose slowly, staring at her, lips parted in shock. She could only imagine what she looked like to him. Split, swollen lip, blood stained shirt, disheveled hair.
"Didn't expect you to be up," was all she could manage to say.
"Jesus-What happened-you're hurt-where-?" He spoke fast, coming close to examine her, not bothering to use complete sentences as panic seeped into his voice.
"Don't worry about it," she shrugged, wincing as it jostled her shoulder.
"Your face!" he exclaimed.
"I know, I'm just so beautiful. I'm going to sleep now," she replied, hoping to slip away.
"No, you're going to sit down," he ordered, "and let me see your face." Alexa couldn't formulate an argument. This was bad. This was very bad. Worst case scenario he told Dippet. Best case scenario he held this over her. If that was the case, she would have to play a better hand. Which, after this, may mean threatening him outright. In times like these, she found herself ever more jealous of Neville's skills in de-escalation. She possessed no such gifts.
"Just drop it," she snapped, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her head was pounding.
"Where the hell did you go-we're not supposed to leave the dormitory, and I doubt you did this in the castle!"
"Gods Tom, just-" she stopped, taking a deep breath and trying to stop her legs from shaking. As if the night's failures couldn't get worse. What was her excuse-what was her reason? What lie could she possibly spin that would make her appearance seem reasonable? Her heart was beating as if she had just run a marathon.
"Let me help you," he insisted, arm half extended, reaching out to her.
"Tom-"
"Don't be an idiot," he said crossly, crossing his arms, "You're in an absolute state." Alexa deflated. There was no lie that would work. And she couldn't run.
"You should see the other guy," she chuckled, and tried to take off her coat. She sucked in a breath as the motion burned and ached through her whole arm. Maybe she had landed on it harder than she thought.
"What's wrong with your arm?" he asked, noticing her discomfort.
"I just fell kinda hard on it," she replied. "Why are you up?"
"Reading." He was studying her face more closely than she liked, chewing his lower lip as he frowned.
"Look, I'm fine-"
Tom gently poked her shoulder, and she swore rather violently in Italian. She glared at him, but he only gave her a dry look.
"Here," he sat next to her and carefully helped her peel off her coat.
"I can heal your lip," he offered.
"I can-"
"Shite Alexa, that's a lot of blood," he had just noticed the spread of crimson on her jumper. Alexa looked away.
"It's fine, don't worry-"
"Alessandra, where are you bleeding?" he demanded, grabbing her uninjured shoulder.
"Look, the blood's not mine," she grumbled, "I can take care of my face, forget about it."
He was silent, looking between her sweater and her face.
"What kind of spell did you use?" he asked finally.
"Tom," she warned.
"Was it dark magic?" his eyes were too bright. He sounded far too excited about the possibility of dark magic.
Alexa snorted, "More like the pointy kind. Made of metal."
"You stabbed somebody?!" he didn't look horrified or disgusted. He looked impressed.
"They definitely started it, what with supporting-never mind." She shouldn't have said that. She should not have said that.
"Alexa were you out fighting Nazis?" Tom asked quietly, eyes bright.
Alexa groaned, leaning back, "Grindelwald's followers, actually," she admitted, knowing there was no way to fib her way out of this.
He stared at her, "You stabbed a fully trained dark wizard?"
"I didn't kill him!" she said defensively. Tom stared at her, and she couldn't blame him. This was a catastrophic error on her part. "Really, I can heal my own face, and my shoulder probably isn't broken-"
"I'm really not concerned as to whether he's dead or not. I'm amazed you're not worse off," Tom shook his head, "I can see why you beat me in the duel the first day."
She chuckled, "Yeah. That wasn't really a fair match."
"How did...this happen?" he gestured to her face.
"I was sloppy and out of practice," she sighed. She wished she could just have friends. She wished Tom could just be a friend. She couldn't tell him how frustrated she was, how angry she was at Dumbledore for spilling half truths that had left them woefully outnumbered. How tired she was. "I was going in, he disarmed me. I tackled him out a window. He got a boot in my face."
"A window-? You're insane," Tom said, shaking his head, "I suspected, but I didn't realize."
"Nobody was really supposed to know about this," Alexa looked intently at him, meeting his eyes.
"Your face looks painful," he avoided her unspoken question, "May I?" he raised his wand, and she flinched, quickly trying to cover it up with a wince.
"Yeah," Alexa gave in. At the very least, he had limited contact to the world outside.
Her breathing stopped as his delicate fingers took her chin, gently keeping her face still. His brows pushed together and his wand hovered centimeters from her face.
"Episkey," he murmured. Immediately, the pain vanished from her face, her skin knitting together and the swelling deflating.
"Thanks," she said. They sat there for a moment in silence. Alexa pulled out her wand, and casted a quick scourgify on her jumper. The blood vanished, leaving the indigo knit as good as new.
"Look, Tom," she began.
"I'm not going to tell anybody. You'll get kicked out and then who will I be left with? Abraxas? Alphard? No," he shook his head, and she couldn't help but smile.
"That does sound dismal," she acknowledged, "Tell you what, I'll buy your silence. I can take you out for your birthday if you'd like? The Hogs Head is my usual, but we can go anywhere."
"You'd do that?" he sounded surprised, "I'm not going to tell anyone, I swear, you don't have to-"
"I wanted to do something anyway," she waved him off, "Now I can."
He stared at her, expression somewhere between excitement, confusion, and distrust.
"Tom, if I was going to smuggle you out of the castle to murder you I wouldn't be telling you before hand," she pointed out.
He shook his head, "No sorry, I don't think-thank you." He cleared his throat, "Can I see your arm? I'm pretty handy at healing bruises."
"Yeah," she sighed, "help me, would you? I've got another shirt on under." Her tattoos were always glamoured. The reason she wore sleeves was mostly for the extra feeling of security. And if he now knew she was out brawling with dark wizards, he probably wouldn't ask too much about her other scars.
Tom was bright red, but nodded. She was able to wriggle her right arm out and he helped her pull the whole thing over her head, before gingerly sliding it down her left arm. She was left in a thin white tank top, and she could feel the way his eyes traveled from her shoulder across her collar bones, taking in the knots and streaks of silver on her skin. Alexa pressed her lips together. Her shoulder and half her upper arm was a motley of red and deep purple, clearly swollen.
"You were fighting after you did this?" he asked, amazed, "That's your wand hand."
"I didn't really notice it until after. Shock and adrenaline do a lot for pain management," she joked.
"Apparently," he frowned, tracing the tip of his wand over her arm, "it's not broken, fortunately," he murmured, "I can do this." He seemed to be assuring himself of this, which was just slightly concerning. But in a few moments her arm was stiff and a little sore, but otherwise healed.
"Thank you," Alexa said, rolling the joint to test it, "How'd you learn to heal anyways?" She wasn't surprised he'd learned advanced spells already, but she assumed he would have spent his time on curses, not cures.
"I…" he trailed off, evaluating her, "found it useful."
"Are you getting in fights when I'm not looking, Riddle?"
He laughed awkwardly, "Only during the summer."
He was being beat up by muggles over the summer. Or maybe corporal punishment from the matron of the orphanage. It was to hide any sign of muggle injury. Her stomach clenched, and she was surprised to find herself angry at Tom's abusers.
"Oh," was all she could say. Panic passed over his face. Wizards didn't leave bruises like that, after all.
"You do a really good job of tricking the purebloods," she commented, wondering where she could make the conversation go, "If I hadn't been raised by muggles, I would never guess."
He froze, looking at her as a rabbit might look at a wolf.
"That's not what I meant-"
"Tom," she interrupted, "I'm not going to say anything. It just felt," she paused, frowning, "dishonest not letting you know that I knew."
He stared at her, and the only emotion she could see through his cracking mask was fear. She reached out and took his hand. Red spread across his cheeks as he looked down at their hands and then back up at her.
"I-If you tell anybody-" it wasn't a threat. It was panic.
"Then you can tell them I'm a halfblood bastard who sneaks out of the castle to fistfight wizard supremacists in the night."
He stared at her for another half second before he began to laugh, "The two great pretenders of Slytherin," he mused.
"Oh, you have no idea," she shook her head, leaning back and closing her eyes, releasing his hand.
"Are you going to tell me how you got us out?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
She smiled, turning to look at him, "You're awfully smart, Tom. I'll leave you to figure it out." She closed her eyes once more and curled deeper into the sofa. She was tired. Even after being healed her body ached with exhaustion and her eyelids grew too heavy.
"You certainly have faith in me," Tom mused, looking back over to her.
"Mhm."
"Are you asleep?"
"Mhm."
Dimly she heard rustling, and a blanket was placed over her.
"Goodnight, Alessandra,"
"G'night."