Tom smoothed down his hair on the way to his appointment with Dippet, more out of habit than any true concern that he would have a hair out of place. He spoke the password that Dippet had provided in his reply earlier that week, taking a deep breath as he climbed the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster's office.

When Tom walked in, Dippet was at his desk, nose buried in a book and apparently oblivious to his presence. Tom walked about halfway into the room before asking in a respectful voice, "Professor Dippet, is now still an acceptable time to meet?"

"Mr. Riddle, yes, I had lost track of the time," the old man replied distractedly. "Please, sit."

Dippet looked confused for a moment. "I apologize for wasting your time, Mr. Riddle, but I cannot remember why I called this meeting."

Frustration coursed through Tom, but other than clutching the armrest on his chair slightly too tightly, he didn't let it show, keeping his smile firmly planted in its place. "Professor Dippet, I had asked to meet with you." Tom looked down momentarily before meeting Dippet's eyes again, trying to appear humble and slightly hesitant. "It's just that I was hoping to speak with you about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position." Tom paused to give Dippet a chance to speak, but Dippet's expression was blank so Tom continued. "I had heard that Professor Merrythought is planning to retire, and I realize that my age would be unorthodox were I to assume the position, but I feel confident that my Head of House and Professor Merrythought would support it."

"Mr. Riddle, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this is out of the question. Although I would not consider hiring a student for any professorship, it is particularly important with the Defense Against the Dark Arts post that Professor Merrythought's replacement has hand-on experience. I'm sure you understand, Mr. Riddle."

Tom nodded politely, but pressed on. "I understand what you are saying, Professor Dippet, and I know that you are only thinking of providing the best education for your students, and I admire that about you. I too am passionate about education, and I think I could be an excellent professor. I would be happy to demonstrate my talents, take any relevant examinations, and provide letters of recommendation."

But Dippet was no longer paying attention, eyeing his book in a way that told Tom the conversation was over. "Again, Mr. Riddle, I admire your perseverance, but I must stand by this decision. I encourage you to reapply for a professorship that next time we have an opening."

And Tom has forced to maintain his smile, shaking hands with Dippet and turning away before letting it slide off his face.

A few days later, Hermione was in the library, deep into her Potions homework. It had been the first time in what felt like a particularly long school year that she had the mental energy to focus on her schoolwork; it was comforting that at least some small part of her was the same Hermione she had always been.

"Hermione, could I—that is, could we have a chat?" Hermione looked up to see Charlus. His brown eyes were bloodshot and watery, and his smile didn't quite reach them. Hermione realized with a sinking heart that it was the most similar Charlus had ever looked to Harry.

Hermione nodded, mutely gesturing to the seat next to her as she cleared her bookbag from it. She expected Charlus to say something as he had asked for the chat, but instead he contented himself with studying her face so intensely that she looked down and cleared her throat before feeling compelled to break the silence. "Charlus, I hope I did the right thing, giving you those pages."

"Hermione," Charlus responded in a low voice that made her feel a bit uncomfortable, "I'm grateful that you made sure I knew the truth about Dorea. She really had me fooled. I had no idea."

"Charlus," Hermione responded, looking up and meeting his eyes, "she had everyone fooled. When I first saw you two together, I thought you were the happiest couple in the world." His eyes teared up at that and she immediately realized that had been the wrong thing to say. "What I mean is that you weren't wrong to believe her; it's not your fault. And I think she probably did care about you, she was just…" Hermione trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence without saying something hurtful.

"In love with Abraxas," Charlus finished evenly, sucking in a deep breath. "But I didn't want to speak with you about Dorea."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"You're a Prewett. And I don't know what your situation was in France or if that's part of why you left, but I've noticed that you've dated practically everyone who isn't betrothed. Reginald, Riddle, Abraxas." Charlus tried to pronounce Abraxas's name without inflection, but there was a tightness in his voice all the same. Hermione felt that she knew where this conversation was going, and averted her gaze to avoid Charlus's laser focus. In doing so, she caught someone else staring at her just as intently, obviously listening: Tom. He has standing at a bookshelf, leaning against the wood and not bothering to pretend to read the open book in his hand. His presence was a sharp reminder to Hermione of why she had been avoiding him. Because there was nothing where she knew there should have been something.

Charlus had kept talking, but she had missed it entirely, lost in her own thoughts. "I'm sorry Charlus, could you repeat that last bit?" She asked apologetically.

"I was asking you if there's someone that you're promised to, because if there isn't, I think we should give this a go. We get along well and—"

Hermione cut him off, too emotionally exhausted to have this conversation for any longer. "Charlus, there is someone that I'm not with right now, but I know I will be." She was no longer looking at Charlus, but to the next bookshelf over where Tom's generally impassive face held enough emotion for both of them. And although her feelings stayed firmly planted at nothing, a part of her heart tugged for just a split second when her eyes met Tom's. "It's Tom. I'm promised to Tom."

"Oh, okay," Charlus replied. There was disappointment in his voice, but exhaustion also crept in. He had clearly been building off his energy reserves, and now that there was no longer a reason to do so, he looked like the heartbroken Charlus she had expected to see.

"But I think there is someone who you might get on with who I know is looking to get out of a contract," Hermione said slowly as her mind worked through the issue. She had been such a neglectful friend lately, but maybe this is something she could do that would actually make a difference in Lyra's life. "Are you still betrothed to Dorea?"

"No," Charlus answered quickly. "My parents were thrilled when I told them they could break the contract," he continued bitterly. "Who are you talking about who's looking to break theirs?"

"Lyra Lovegood. Do you know her?"

"Only vaguely. What's she like?" And Hermione and Charlus talked about Lyra for the next several minutes before Charlus seemed sold on giving it a shot, and Hermione left the library feeling like she had finally done something useful for her friend.