A/N;
Well thank you to the FOUR readers who left a review last chapter. A bit disappointing that no one else on this site enjoyed it. :-(
Guest – Yes, Dolohov might be a problem in future. You are right, Tom is smooth but he has no idea how to deal with Buffy.
Blarghmonkeys – glad you enjoyed this one. I do intend to bring the Chamber of Secrets into this story. Watch this space!
Sammiemarie123 – glad you enjoyed the chapter and it lived up to expectations. :-) Hope you like this one.
Nerdalertwarning – thank you so much. I hope you will like this one as much. Lots more Tom and Buffy in future. It will explode between those two.
I hope that you all enjoy this chapter.
(8)…...(8)
It was Friday morning, and the Hogwarts Great Hall was alive with the chatter of students anticipating the weekend. Over on the Slytherin table, most of Tom's group had gathered around him. He and Abraxus Malfoy sat side by side eating their breakfasts, a small Silencing charm placed over them so that the others couldn't hear their conversation.
Malfoy had his face turned to Tom. "...I only know what he's told others. Father might know more. Lestrange's father is the one who'd know if it were true and exactly who they are."
Both boys looked over at Lestrange's empty seat. They'd left Marcus in the Slytherin common room, panicking, as he'd forgotten to do his DADA homework.
"I doubt his father would reveal anything of importance." Minister Lestrange rarely brought home files, and, the few times he had, they'd always been strongly warded.
"My Lord-," began Malfoy.
"Don't..." hissed Tom. He shot a look at the teacher's table. Dumbledore's chair was empty, but most of the other teachers were already in their seats. "Leave the title for our meetings, not here. The Silencing Charm is weak so as not to alert suspicion and is not unbreakable"
Not wanting to annoy him further, Malfoy quickly apologised. Since arriving back at Hogwarts, Tom had been short-tempered, moody, and distracted. "I was only going to suggest asking the others to make discreet enquiries. They might have more information for tonight's meeting."
"Very well. See to it."
Malfoy relaxed. Trying to be helpful, he asked, "What about the Lovegood's Squib brat? Do you still want us to dig the dirt on her?"
Tom's head spun around so fast Malfoy thought it might snap.
"What?! What did you say?" There was a sibilant hiss behind the words that carried the promise of pain.
Malfoy swallowed, tense once more. "Erm, the Summers girl. I just wanted to know, erm, if you were still interested in her?"
Something indecipherable flickered behind Tom's eyes. Feeling as if he was standing on the edge of a huge hole that could turn out to be his grave, Malfoy said, "Oh! I don't mean you are interested as in," he lowered his voice, "erm, 'attracted'. I meant interested in finding information on her, nothing more."
Tom turned from Malfoy. His eyes rested on the Parkinson girls who sat across the table. They were squealing over the fashion section in a copy of Witch's Weekly. Since Riddle had little interest in the Parkinsons or witches' fashions, Malfoy decided he must be considering how important the American witch was.
Still looking at the Parkinson's, Tom asked, "Do you find her attractive?"
The non sequitur completely threw an already jittery Abraxus. "Who? Dorothea? Or Penelope?"
Riddle gave him an incredulous look. "Them? No. We're talking of Buffy Summers."
Was he being tested? Malfoy felt a line of sweat forming on his forehead. What happened if he tried drawing his wand to cast a cooling charm? Would Tom think he was threatening him? Better not draw his wand. How should he answer? If he said yes, would he be accused of finding Muggle blood attractive? What if he said no? Would he be asked if Slytherin Half-bloods weren't good enough for him?
And what if...
He felt as if the ground had opened up at his feet, the world tilted, and he grabbed at the table top to stop himself from falling. What if Tom Riddle liked Summers? He'd certainly stared over at her often enough. No. No, that couldn't be. Tom wouldn't find someone so uncouth - someone with questionable bloodlines - attractive. He'd only stared at her because she was an aberration in Slytherin. No one could help looking over when the circus arrived in town.
"She's very pretty but not my type," he began, feeling his way into the answer and hoping he was saying the right thing. "I can see why she'd turn a lot of heads, though."
"You've seen interest in her already?" Tom's eyes had sharpened and Malfoy noticed a tautness in the set of the other boy's shoulders. "Who? Someone amongst the Slytherin? Or from one of the other Houses?"
Abraxus exhaled, relaxing slightly. Riddle was angry, but it was not directed at him. This was about Summers, her allegiances and future conquests. That was information he could provide.
"None of the older boys in Slytherin have paid her serious interest," Malfoy replied, thinking over what he'd seen. Slytherins tended to tread cautiously, weighing up a new student's blood purity, family connections, wealth, and the strength of their magic before deciding if they liked them.
"Young Rigel Black has taken a liking to her, which isn't surprising since she saved him from drowning. Oh, and Dolohov's made several salacious comments about her..."
Danger prickled in the air. "I'm sure Dolohov meant no harm by it," Abraxus quickly added. "He does it all the time, about lots of girls."
Tom's face was emotionless, his eyes cold as he continued to attack his breakfast.
Not wanting to bring trouble to Dolohov, or risk his own neck by defending him, Malfoy changed the subject. "As for interest from the other Houses..." He gave a small shrug. "She's shiny and new, heads turn. I haven't seen anyone in particular... Oh -"
Tom stopped cutting the eggs on his plate and faced Malfoy. "Oh?" he repeated. "What do you know?"
"The other night I was flying around the training grounds and spotted her through a window. She was straightening Dearborn's clothing."
Riddle's face darkened. He stared off, down the table, and Malfoy followed his gaze. The two large girls, Crabbe and Goyle, were eating breakfast and across the table from them, Travers sat with his head in a book. The seat beside him was empty. Malfoy looked across to the Ravenclaw table. Lovell Lovegood's seat was empty; it made sense as the two cousins usually came into meals together.
Malfoy's attention went back to the boy at his side. The lack of emotion in Riddle's face and the flat hardness in his eyes concerned him. They never boded well for those who'd drawn his ire. Although Abraxus might not particularly like the newcomer, especially after she'd called him a mutant, he didn't wish to see a girl receiving one of Riddle's punishments – they could be brutal.
"They were outside of Dumbledore's office at the time," Malfoy said quickly. "I doubt anything untoward was going on. You know how slovenly those Gryffindors are. He probably turned up for an appointment with his tie askew and it irritated the Squib brat..."
Tom regarded him from under heavy lids.
Malfoy's survival instincts kicked in again. Tom's anger wasn't against the Squib's brat, it was against Dearborn. "Erm, I mean to say, Miss Summers. I've noticed she always appears neat and tidy. She's a nice girl, very kind hearted," Abraxus blustered. He wasn't certain how, why, and when his opinion of Buffy Lovegood Summers had taken a drastic U-turn, but it had.
"Being kind-hearted is not a good trait for a Slytherin," muttered Riddle.
"I don't know... My mother was a Slytherin and she's kind to everyone." Had he just contradicted Riddle? Abraxus quickly amended it to, "I agree, it isn't a good trait. Father calls Mum a Hufflepuff sometimes, but he says he'd rather return home to a kind wife than be shackled to a harpy."
Across the table, the two Parkinson girls screamed insults down the table at Crabbe and Goyle. The boys looked across at them and then back at each other.
Malfoy couldn't help raising a smug eyebrow.
The conversation turned to other students, Tom removed the Silencing charm, and breakfast went on. Malfoy became caught up in a conversation with Alphard Black as they discussed the Quidditch tryouts which would take place the following weekend. He'd almost forgot about Buffy Summers until she appeared with her cousin in the doorway of the Great Hall.
He watched them walk down the gap between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. As usual, they had their heads together and were deep in conversation. Buffy's eyes sparkling as she expounded on an idea and Lovell looked uneasy.
Under the cover of listening to Dorothea Parkinson, Malfoy eased forward to observe Tom's reaction from the side of his eye. He felt disappointed when Tom continued talking to Avery, showing no sign of having seen her enter. Malfoy gave him a nudge and nodded over at the two cousins.
"Thick as thieves those two," he said quietly.
There was no way she could have heard him, yet Buffy stopped talking and shot him a startled look, her cheeks flushing guiltily. As Malfoy was wondering what the guilt was about, Tom leaned back on the bench and effectively blocked the Lovegoods' path.
"Come and sit beside me, Summers. I'd like to talk to you." Riddle's words were soft and inviting, his smile warm and welcoming as he turned on the famous Riddle charm. "Malfoy, be a sport and budge up for the lady."
Abraxus didn't need telling twice, he shuffled along the bench pulling his breakfast along with him. Lovell shot Buffy a look of apprehension. Buffy stared off into space, and across the table the Parkinsons watched with matching sour expressions.
For a moment, Malfoy thought Buffy was going to snub Tom. Then she looked down and gave him a wide smile.
"Thanks for such a great offer, Tom," she replied sweetly. "I'm... honoured by the welcome you've given me so far. It really has been something else."
Tom's friends exchanged bemused glances.
"Sadly," Buffy's smile became even toothier, "I'm unable to 'stick' around as my friends are waiting and I don't wanna get 'stuck' here." She nodded over to where Crabbe, Goyle and Travers were sat. "I think I might be 'sticking' with them in future, if you get my drift?"
She stuck her nose into the air, pushed past Tom, and sauntered off to her seat with a saucy swagger, Lovell trailing after her.
"Such a rude girl!" Dorothea scowled after her.
"And disrespectful," Penelope added. "I warrant you never gave her permission to use your first name, Riddle. She's over forward."
Dorothea laughed harshly. "Definitely! The Lovegoods are all loonies. Have you seen her uncle's hat?" She shuddered. "I saw him wearing it in Diagon Alley over the summer. There's a horrible bird attached to the crown and it stares at you all the time. He looks a complete nutter in it."
Penelope simpered over the table at Tom. "Never mind. She's obviously mental. Who'd want to sit with Crabbe, Goyle, and a Mudblood when you could have us?"
Riddle didn't reply. There'd been more than one hidden message for him in Buffy's little performance and Malfoy wondered if he'd understood them all? A tiny crease between his brows suggested he hadn't, yet he showed no outward sign of annoyance at the knock-back as he went back to his breakfast.
A few minutes later, a shadow fell across the table and Tom looked up to see Walburga Black standing behind the Parkinsons. Her hands were on her hips and there was a scowl to her lips.
"Don't you two have somewhere else to be?" she snapped at the Parkinsons. "You're sitting in my seat."
Penelope's face screwed up with confusion. "But... but we always sit here!"
"I won't tell you again." Walburga moved her hand, revealing the vine wand by her side. She leant down, put her face close to Penelope's and screeched, "MOVE!"
Dust fell from the ceiling, several ghosts scattered - disappearing into the walls - and the entire Hall became silent. Heads on every table, including the teachers, turned to look in the direction of the Slytherin table and the two red-faced Parkinsons rose to their feet, almost tripping in their haste to get away.
Malfoy and Riddle exchanged glances out the corner of their eyes.
Walburga plopped herself down into Penelope's seat and smiled, contentedly, at Malfoy and Riddle. "Isn't this pleasant?" she remarked, a fake smile contorting her otherwise pretty face.
"Good morning, Walburga," Riddle replied in a cultured tone. His voice held no trace of curiosity about the older girl's visit.
He gave up on his breakfast, putting his knife and fork down and pushing the plate away from him. Walburga had placed her wand onto the table, she obviously thought whatever she was about to say might cause problems. Not that either of them would resort to a duel in the Great Hall while under the eye of the teachers. The Blacks were far too devious for that and Tom had learned to be the same over the last few years. No, the wand was there as a subtle reminder of who she was if he didn't like what she had to say.
"I have a problem," the older witch said, pushing the remains of Penelope's congealed egg breakfast further away from her, her nose wrinkling with distaste. "Yuck, those smell almost as bad as she does."
She waved her wand at the plate, muttered a vanishing spell and the plate disappeared.
"The Hogwarts elves are slow in removing dishes," she complained. "If they were ours, Father would kick them down the stairs repeatedly until they learned not to be so tardy. You'd think Dippet would be able to organise it."
"An elf kicking event for the students?" Malfoy laughed. "What an interesting idea."
"The service! Organise the service better!" Walburga snapped, clearly not in the mood for jokes.
Tom couldn't resist teasing her with, "You're here to complain about the slowness of the Hogwarts elves at mealtimes?"
"Tsk," Walburga tutted. "No!" She ignored Riddle's attempts at charming her and leaned forward, saying quietly, "I'm here about Sticking Charms."
She gave him a meaningful nod. Tom met Malfoy's perplexed eyes and shrugged. He'd no idea what the Black girl was talking about. Was Walburga's comment connected to Buffy's earlier comments about sticking? Or was it going to be one of those mornings where the world had gone mad and he was the only sane one in it?
Tom frowned. "Do you need a Sticking Charm?"
Walburga huffed, "Why do you think I would be in need a Sticking Charm?!" As Tom opened his mouth, she put up a hand. "Do not answer. I don't want to know."
She then sat silently, examining Tom's face. Tom looked back at her, quite placidly. Had he once thought her the most beautiful girl that he'd ever seen? Walburga had a mane of dark waves and even features, but there was an ugliness about her eyes and a sourness about her mouth that he hadn't noticed before. He remembered Malfoy's words and wondered if Walburga was destined to become a harpy? Her betrothed, the young Orion Black, had better watch out.
"Yesterday evening," began Walburga when Tom made no sign of speaking, "I had to unstick someone's homework from the desk in the library."
Tom instantly realised who she was referring to. It was Buffy!He'd used a personalised Sticking Charm on her homework and then forgotten to give her the correct Finite to cancel it. Now Buffy's behaviour and allusions to sticking made sense.
"Why come to us about it, Walburga?" Malfoy asked, looking confused.
"It's Buffy," Tom replied, wondering how mad Buffy had gotten when she couldn't unpeel her essay from the desk.
Malfoy rubbed at his forehead. "I don't understand. What's Buffy? Oh, I mean what's Miss Summers got to do with this?"
Walburga leaned back. "Abraxus, someone noted for his brilliance cast a very unique Sticking Charm onto Buffy's essay." Her eyes didn't leave Tom's face. "When it came time for her to remove it, she was unable to do so, and became... distressed. Luckily, I was in the library and saw her difficulty. I loosened it and repaired the damage she'd caused trying to peel it off the desk. There was quite a lot of damage," Walburga paused, "to the essay and the desk."
Tom stared past Malfoy to where Buffy sat. The American sat tearing at a slice of toast with her teeth. She spotted Tom watching her and scowled.
Riddle flushed and turned back to Walburga, his cheeks red. "How cross was she with me?"
"Oh... If she was a bubbling cauldron, I'd have recommended running for cover," Walburga replied gleefully. " For some reason, Tom, Buffy thought you'd done it on purpose to her. She wouldn't say why."
A clean plate appeared on the table in front of Walburga and she drew it towards her. "Finally," she said, selecting items from the dishes in front of her.
"Tom, I take it you forgot to give her the correct Finite spell and you weren't trying to sabotage her work?" she asked, at the same time placing several slices of bacon onto her plate.
Tom shook his head. "No. The Finite spell slipped my mind."
"Good." Walburga added a couple of sausages to her plate and then selected toast from the toast rack. "I told her that you wouldn't have purposely done it." She smirked darkly. "At least, not to one of us."
"I really was only trying to help," Tom explained. He'd been quietly confident that with a little flattery, small shows of power, and appearing helpful, Buffy would have settled into his group. She'd already shown last night that she wasn't as immune to his charm as she'd pretended to be. He looked past Malfoy to Buffy again.
Buffy met his eyes and death glared him. Suddenly, she rammed the knife she held into the table so hard that its tip buried a good inch into the wood. Those around her startled, Travers almost fell from his seat. Buffy looked away from Tom and apologised to her friends. Tom noticed she'd left the knife where it was – protruding from the table. How could he ever have thought she was a Gryffindor? The girl was a Slytherin if ever he saw one.
Walburga let out a low cackle. "I don't think you've impressed her."
"Merlin!" said Malfoy. "She's got a temper. I bet she was thinking of your head when she did that."
"Or perhaps, his heart." Walburga cackled again. "Her descriptions of painful deaths and things she'd do to your body parts became highly descriptive last night." She took a sip from her glass. "You'd never think she was a Lovegood."
"I was honestly trying to help her."
Others along the table were looking at Tom, Buffy and then the knife she'd left stabbed into the table. So the little American had shown her fangs in warning. He'd survived four years in the snake-pit, it was going to take a lot more than that to bother him. Tom took it as a challenge and challenges were what made life interesting. Inwardly he smiled, outwardly he kept the remorseful expression on his face. He continued, "I forgot all about giving her the Finite as we were talking and –."
"Arguing more like," interrupted Walburga. "Buffy is remarkably tight lipped about your encounter, but there's a lot of gossip doing the rounds this morning. Some say you threatened her, others say you almost fought a duel over her."
Malfoy did his best not to gape.
"None of that is true," Tom replied calmly. "Ask Dolohov, he was there. I was telling Buffy about Durmstrang's reputation for producing Dark Wizards when Dearborn drew his wand on me. It's obvious he's mentally unstable and prone to outbreaks of violence. "
Walburga raised an eyebrow. "I'd say I didn't care about any of this, except Rigel owes Buffy a Life Debt. Since he's a child that debt transfers to the rest of the Black family." Her voice became colder. "Father has written. He expects me and Alphard to keep Buffy out of harm's way while he tries to sort something out with her family. So... whatever you have against Dearborn, don't get Buffy involved. I hope we have an accord over this?"
"Certainly, Walburga," Tom replied. "I shall do my best to ensure her transition into a Slytherin is a smooth one." By doing this he'd be gaining the favour of the Blacks, ensuring Buffy's safety, and not drawing attention to his own interest in her. The Blacks would be grateful, Buffy would be grateful... Salazar, he knew now the girl would be ungrateful, that's what she was like. Still, by going along with Walburga the scales were heavily weighed in his favour.
"Would you be so kind as offer Buffy my most sincere apologies for my forgetfulness and any upset caused?" He gave Walburga a self-deprecating smile. "I'd do it myself, but I don't think she'd listen to what I have to say."
He glanced down the table. The knife no longer protruded out of it. Buffy had it in her hand and was examining the piece of twisted metal. Travers had left off reading his book and was giving her a narrow look.
"Would you also say, I'd like us to be friends and I'm happy to provide her with extra tuition in any subject she is weak on." Tom added truthfully, "I'd really like to do something to make this up to her."
Malfoy let out a lewd chuckle and both Riddle and Walburga shot him a dark look.
Walburga gave Tom a small nod. Turning to Malfoy, she changed the subject away from Buffy by asking, "When are the team tryouts, Malfoy? I heard your father sent you an new broomstick. Is it any good?"
…...