Rodeo Queen.

The mist that had been rolling down the Scottish mountainside had changed into a thick fog. Down in the Quidditch stadium, out of the worst of the weather, most of the students hadn't yet noticed. Professor Dumbledore did. As soon as he reached the top tier of seating, he took out his wand and muttered a soft incantation before taking a seat behind some students from his House.

Further off, Tom Riddle was also watching the fog creep towards the stadium. Malfoy had chosen a bad day to pick his team. He shivered inside his cloak, cast a Warming Charm and thought of his warm bed inside the Slytherin dungeons. He'd only come to make sure Malfoy gave Buffy a fair tryout, pushing for her to be on the team to keep her away from Caradoc.

"What happens if the fog drops?" Tom asked Marcus Lestrange, who sat on the bench beside him. "Will Malfoy postpone the trials?"

"No, it's all part of the fun," Marcus Lestrange replied, holding a set of Omnioculars up to his eyes.

Tom noticed Professor Dumbledore was also using them. What was that old goat looking at? Those were Slytherin students down there!

"Quidditch games don't stop because of bad weather." continued Lestrange. "You haven't lived until you've watched a Quidditch match in the middle of a storm."

Tom kept his face expressionless, but internally he grimaced. He'd never had any interest in Quidditch; for him it was a way of gaining introductions and creating new contacts for the future. The thought of watching a match during a storm – with cold rain trickling down your neck - sounded distinctly unappealing.

"What's the attraction of Quidditch in a storm?" Tom finally asked. He wouldn't have asked the same question to Malfoy. Tom knew from personal experience that Abraxas Malfoy would happily tramp miles in the remotest parts of the British Isles and sleep in a leaky tent if it meant he could watch Quidditch. Lestrange though... Tom didn't think Lestrange was one to sacrifice comfort for sport.

Lestrange took the Omnioculars from his eyes to give Tom a sly grin. "I saw a player get struck by lightning once," he said. "The combination of his magic and the electric bolt created a fantastic light show that lit up the entire stadium. He was still screaming as he plummeted to the pitch and then was silent. Everyone thought he was dead. It took him weeks to recover and he never played again. The other players were in a complete panic as they still hadn't caught the Snitch and the match wasn't over until they did."

Tom chuckled. "Ah, I can see the draw."

"Avery is arguing with Malfoy now," Lestrange said, turning the dials above the eyepieces.

"Malfoy was upset with Avery for missing all those practices." Tom peered down at the group partly obscured by the mist. Malfoy was still visible due to the shininess of his hair. Tom had seen him spend over an hour applying potions and combing it into place to protect it from the weather.

Lestrange snorted a laugh. "Ha! Victor just waved his broom at Abraxas! Merlin's balls, are they...? No... I thought there was going to be a fight then. Neither of them look happy. Whatever Malfoy said to Avery has upset him. It wouldn't surprise me if a few hexes are thrown in the Common Room later." He took the Omnioculars away from his eyes again, to look at Tom. "You should see this."

"I forgot my Omnioculars," Tom replied. He hadn't, he didn't own a pair. Orphanage pocket money barely stretched to an ounce of sweets, never mind expensive magical devices that could only be purchased at certain sporting events.

"Use mine, I brought two sets in case I broke a pair."

Tom took the proffered Omnioculars and frowned down at all the controls. "These are different to mine," he lied. "How do they work?"

Marcus pointed to the dials on the top. "See the dials above the eyepieces? That one is your zoom, that button for rewind, and this is for replaying at normal speed and by pressing those two together it slows the action speed down."

Tom nodded and then focussed them on Buffy. He told himself it wasn't because he was especially interested in her, she just made a good test subject to practice using the magical device on. He zoomed in on her face and let out a soft huff of laughter when he saw how bored she looked. Walburga really needed to teach Buffy how to hide her feelings, wearing your heart on your sleeve was never a good thing to do in Slytherin. A polite mask of indifference was the norm – that way your enemies didn't know if they had hurt you or not.

As he mused on her face, a movement at the corner of the lens caught his eye. He shifted the Omnioculars to the left, and a close-up of Antonin Dolohov's face appeared. Tom hurriedly zoomed out. Then his hand tightened around the Omnioculars as Dolohov leaned over Buffy with a flirtatious smile. Salazar! What did he think he was doing? He'd been told to keep away from her!

Unaware of Tom's annoyance, Lestrange continued talking Quidditch. "... it was while we were at the last World Cup match. The British Ministry always reserves a full tier of seating for the ministers and their families. Father and I had some of the best seats and the Omnioculars meant we never missed anything."

"Yes?" Tom managed to reply, still concentrating on Dolohov and Buffy. What was Dolohov whispering to Buffy?

"You can keep that set."

"Thank you, Marcus. Your generosity is appreciated," Tom replied automatically, knowing Lestrange would expect some favour in return. In truth, he barely registered the gift. Buffy tilted her head, listening to Dolohov.

Dolohov had used that smile before - when seducing Muggleborn Witches! Hot rage and dark magic, a dangerous combination, burned inside Tom as he watched the pair through the Omnioculars. Dolohov had told the knights that he'd planned to seduce Buffy. He'd been told not to do so. Did he think no one would see him and realise what he was up to? How dare he do this!

Buffy bestowed a wide and bright smile on Dolohov. A serpent of jealousy joined the inner rage and wild magic. Tom's face flushed with heat. That smile and the way her eyes sparkled... Couldn't she see Dolohov's true nature? Didn't she realise he secretly hated her? He'd never be serious about a girl like her! Great Salazar, she wasn't a Hufflepuff, to be taken in so easily!

Tom was so agitated that he didn't realise the anger and magic inside him broke through his control to crackle around him. Lestrange noticed and his voice trailed away – nervously wondering if it was in response to something he'd said. Further off, Professor Dumbledore frowned and half-turned in his seat to watch Tom.

Still unaware of his slip, Tom continued to watch the young couple below. Buffy was speaking to Dolohov now. If only he could hear what was being said! Tom zoomed out, waiting for Dolohov's reaction. Did that stupid grin of his look more forced? The Omnioculars swerved back onto Buffy. Was she smirking? Back to Dolohov once more. The look he was giving her was as if he wanted to hex her! Buffy must have given him one of her put-downs!

A laugh erupted from Tom, not his fake, melodic laugh but one of genuine happiness. This was hilarious! Dolohov hadn't needed the warning after all. Buffy was quite capable of nipping it in the bud herself. He chuckled, and all the anger, wild magic, and jealousy inside him vanished as if it had never existed.

Startled by the sudden mood change in Tom, Lestrange asked, "What's happened? What's so funny?"

Tom stopped laughing, his expression becoming guarded. "Nothing." He waved a hand at the group below. "Malfoy is overdoing the lecture, people are becoming bored. He needs to start the tryouts before people fall asleep and the fog drops."

"It should have dropped by now." Lestrange flicked a glance at Dumbledore and Tom followed his gaze. "I think Dumbledore has cast a charm to keep it at bay."

The Deputy Head Master was leaning forward, talking to Caradoc Dearborn and a red-haired boy that Tom recognised as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, Bernard Weasley. Tom glanced up at the sky. Lestrange was right, the fog should have dropped by now. What spell had Dumbledore used? Whatever it was, it wasn't a simple Wind Charm. Tom felt a stab of envy, and then a grim determination to learn and become a better Wizard than Dumbledore.

Lestrange's Omnioculars hummed as they zoomed in on the group below. "Looks as if Malfoy's finally started the tryouts. Here they come!"

Except for Buffy and Malfoy, all the Slytherins flew into the air and began circling the pitch, waiting for the Quaffle to be released. Despite being a Beater last year, Corvus Flint caught it first, he passed it to Dolohov, who in turn threw it to a third-year. The boy reached, fumbled the catch and dropped it. A fourth-year dived to catch the Quaffle and missed. Chaser Tobias Nott caught it, with a snarl of abuse at the fourth-year, he threw it up to Dolohov.

Lestrange shook his head. "I'm not impressed with this new lot. I think the team Malfoy had last year was better than these." He moved the Omnioculars back to the pitch. "Any idea why Buffy hasn't taken off? Wasn't Malfoy supposed to be lending her his broom?"

"He was," replied Tom shortly. When Buffy had said she'd try out for the team, he'd known she'd be competing against kids with faster broomsticks. Tom decided that Malfoy should lend her one of his. It had taken a surprising amount of time to persuade Malfoy it was a good idea, but he'd finally agreed – on the proviso that Buffy was able to hit a Bludger from the ground first.

CRACK!

A Bludger struck the anchoring pillar holding up their seating. Almost dropping the Omnioculars in his haste, Professor Dumbledore drew his wand and made a few quick encircling motions.

'A silent Repairing Charm,' Tom thought, and not one he knew. He watched Dumbledore pick up the magical binoculars and zoom in on Buffy and Malfoy.

"Dumbledore always pays Buffy a lot of attention," Lestrange muttered. "What's his interest in her?"

Tom scowled across at the crooked-nosed Professor. "What does your father think of it? Surely he replies to those reports of yours?"

Lestrange shrugged."He doesn't tell me much. He said Dumbledore was overheard saying he wanted her in his House. Buffy, a Gryffindor! That didn't work out well for Dumbledore, did it?"

"No." There was a pause, during which Tom wondered if he'd figured in any of Lestrange's reports to his father. He hoped not; from now on, he wanted to read what Lestrange was sending.

Unaware of Tom's thoughts, Lestrange went on, "Father was intrigued to hear she'd been invited to Grimmauld Place last week. When I told him they'd actually discussed an alliance between Rigel and Buffy he was shocked. He sent a very terse letter back. Father says the Lovegoods are incapable of making a suitable match for her and he's going to have a word with Peregrine Lovegood and Arcturus Black."

"What?!" Why would Minister Lestrange want Rigel Black to marry Buffy? What did the Lestranges have to gain by the match? The thought of Buffy and Rigel being engaged was unbelievable. "You think that match will go ahead?"

Lestrange's brow wrinkled. "From what I've heard, Arcturus doesn't want Rigel to marry her and none of the Lovegoods are pushing for it. I asked Buffy what happened and she said, 'Oh, God, don't ask. I need more coffee to deal'." He chuckled and went back to looking through his Omnioculars.

The tension left Tom's shoulders.

"Malfoy has finally given Buffy his broom," observed Lestrange. "He doesn't look happy. She's..." Buffy rocketed past them, sending Slytherin players scattering. "Whoa! That was some take-off!"

Lestrange, Tom, Dumbledore, and everyone else inside the stadium stared up. Buffy had disappeared into the thick fog overhead. Seconds ticked by, the Slytherins flew slowly around the stadium. Malfoy mounted his broom and circled with the others, all of them constantly looking upwards for signs of Buffy returning. Dumbledore swept the sky with his Omnioculars, and Lestrange and Tom did likewise.

"Over there!" called Dumbledore and pointed to a dark shadow in the fog.

Buffy grew closer. She was flying at great speed towards the ground, the nose of her broomstick pointing downwards, her dark green robes and her long, blonde hair billowing out behind her as she hurtled towards the ground.

"She's either a wonderful flyer or absolutely terrible!" yelled Lestrange.

From the sounds coming from the Gryffindors, they thought the same.

With no signs of slowing, Buffy shot past their tier. Malfoy dived after her, waving his arms and shouting, "STOP! PULL UP on the broom! You'll break it, if you crash!"

Buffy continued her descent. Either she didn't hear him or she'd lost control. Was she going to crash? From behind Tom came the sounds of Uma and Fiona screaming. Tom didn't blame them. Jumping to his feet, he ran past Dumbledore and the group of gaping Gryffindors to stand at the very edge of the tier. Others followed him, all wanting to see what happened to the American Witch.

Down below them, Buffy pulled up on the broom's handle. The nose of the broom lifted, then lifted some more, levelling out and then going into an upwards spiral.

"Whoohoo!" Buffy cried, waving an arm as if she was in a rodeo. Her cheeks were pink with exhilaration.

"You're completely crazy," Tom whispered.

"This is so much fun!" Buffy shouted over to the red-faced Malfoy. "If I get on the team do I get to do dives like that all the time?"

"Not on my bloody broomstick you won't!" Malfoy shouted back. The redness in his face was from anger, not excitement. "You nearly crashed, you stupid, idiotic Witch!"

Buffy laughed. "Don't get your robes all twisted, Abbie. I told you, I'm a flying ace!"

"You told me, you hadn't flown above four foot!" Malfoy yelled back. "And stop calling me Abbie! If you want to be on the team, you'll show some respect and address me as Captain, Malfoy, or Sir! I don't give you leave to call me as Abraxas!"

Buffy flipped the broom so that she hung upside down. Saluting him, she replied, "Yes, Mine Furrier!"

With a shake of his head, Malfoy turned away in disgust. Buffy grinned and for the first time realised she had spectators. Startled, she took in Dumbledore, Caradoc, and then Tom before turning a deep shade of pink. Avoiding their eyes, she righted herself and flew over to the other Slytherins.

"Who in Merlin's name is Mine Furrier?" Lestrange asked Tom when they returned to their seats. "Is it a... Muggle thing?"

Tom shook his head. "I do believe it's a Lovegood... thing."

"Ah, it's probably something from that book she keeps toting around with her. You know the one, Seeing With My Fourth Eye," Lestrange replied knowingly. "She showed it to me in the Common Room and asked me if I'd ever seen any of the creatures in it. When I said I hadn't, she told me I mustn't have the Fourth Sight then. I thought it better not to ask what that was."

He lifted the Omnioculars to watch her slam a Bludger away from an oblivious third-year (it narrowly missed Malfoy's head), and then he lowered the Omnioculars to peer at Tom. "I know Summers is unpredictable, but Quidditch seems to have unleashed something violent in her."

"She does seem to be enjoying it." Although Tom would never admit it to Lestrange – he didn't want it going into a report – Buffy's darker side came as no surprise. Back at Wools they'd broken into the Town Hall in the middle of the night, stolen official files, and then fought off Billy Stubbs' gang. She'd even witnessed him lose his violent temper and hadn't shied away. Instead, she'd talked calmly to him and stayed with him as they'd run from the scene. She'd never mentioned his loss of control that night to anyone, not even him. Nor had she appeared to judge him negatively for it.

Through the Omnioculars, Tom watched her laughing with the younger Slytherins as they flew around the arena. From their slightly bewildered, starry-eyed expressions, they were already feeling the effect of her merry charm. For, despite her eccentricities, there was something about Buffy Lovegood-Summers that drew people to her. Something that drew him to her...

Dolohov hit the Bludger, it flew across the pitch towards Buffy. Buffy didn't see the iron ball approaching, her back was to it and she was too busy blocking a second incoming Bludger. The iron ball continued, headed straight at Buffy's undefended back.

The Omnioculars were pressed to Tom's face so hard that the metal dug into the bridge of his nose.

Then, without even turning, Buffy made a backhanded strike with her bat. The Bludger was knocked away, reversing its course across the field to Dolohov who had to drop sideways to avoid it. The Bludger flew on, crashing into the side of the stadium before floating aimlessly around.

Unless the rumour Walburga had spread was true, Buffy was the child of a Muggle father and a Squib. Merlin! He'd fallen for the offspring of a Squib and a Muggle.

No! Tom shook his head. No! He didn't need or want a girlfriend. Especially not now, not at this time in his life. If he was to have a girlfriend she'd be Pureblood, would do as she was told, and have a wealth of well-heeled relatives to help him on the way to greatness. What he didn't need was...

Buffy was spinning the broom around in circles as if she was sat on a rearing horse, twirling the bat around in her hand.

…a crazy American Witch.

Tom almost laughed at the absurdity of it. If anyone had suggested he'd fall for a crazy Witch, he'd have hexed them straight into the lake. Merlin! He'd still hex them into the lake! Hadn't he seen his classmates turn themselves into fools over a girl they were trying to impress? He was not stupid; he was not going to fall into that trap.

Annoyed with himself for doing it and yet unable to stop, Tom continued watching Buffy. Why her? He didn't need Professor Trelawney's crystal ball to know she was trouble. He had to be sensible over this. The best thing he could do was ignore the feeling and hope it would fade over time. He was not the sort who'd go on romantic picnics by the lake, take sneaky trips to the Astronomy Tower to watch Jupiter rising, and there'd definitely be no clandestine meetings in secluded cupboards with her.

He remembered how Mrs Cole had caught Buffy hiding in the cupboard under the stairs... He shook his head, trying to push the thought of cupboards out of his head. The previous night he'd caught two seventh-year Ravenclaws half-naked in a cupboard on the fourth floor. They'd been so enthralled with one another that they hadn't heard him approaching and been shocked when he'd whipped open the door. Shame-faced they'd struggled to dress. Tom had looked politely away, although not before he'd seen everything worth seeing.

He could go somewhere similar with Buffy – he knew some really good spots where they'd never be disturbed... Her lips on his, tasting her as her hands pulled at his shirt, unbuttoning his trousers and touching the soft naked flesh that was already... He jerked himself away from those thoughts, conscious of Lestrange next to him and Dumbledore not far away. There were times and places to have sexual fantasies, and sitting on a Quidditch bench with your most hated professor sitting not ten feet away from you was not one of them. Tom refocussed on the tryouts. Dolohov was holding a hand to his chest. One of the Bludgers must have hit him.

His thoughts drifted once more... Did Buffy like him enough to go into a secluded place with him? She'd happily followed him into the cellars of Wools Orphanage but that had been different – they'd been sneaking out of the place. Buffy would know what he was about if he opened a cupboard door and invited her in there. He'd seen her respond when he turned on the charm but did she like him enough to do that? Bizarrely, he wanted her to like him for who he really was and not as the Tom Riddle he pretended to be. Why would it matter, as long as he got what he wanted? A sense of self-loathing came over him. 'Tom Riddle: Popular Student' and 'Tom Riddle: Holder Of Traditionalist Pureblood Values' were both fake identities. No one liked the real version; the pathetic orphan so scared of the world that he wanted to control everything in it.

Tom put the Omnioculars into his pocket and rose to his feet.

"Tom," Lestrange asked, looking up at him in surprise, "aren't you going to watch the rest of the tryouts?"

"No." Tom snapped. "You watch and report back to me later. I have more important things to do with my time."

Angry at the way he still wanted to stay and be close to Buffy, Tom stamped away to the stairs, his shoes clattering on the steps as he ran downwards. It didn't matter if Buffy liked him or not, he had absolutely no intention of asking her out. She could go out with Caradoc Dearborn and Antonin Dolohov at the same time for all he cared.

A/N;

Hope you enjoyed this peek into Tom's thoughts. It really isn't easy to get into a pre-Dark Lord's head!

Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, including

Blarghmonkeys – Glad you enjoyed the broom story!

Cassie-011 – I hope you enjoyed Buffy as a Beater?

CallaRose4ever – It wasn't the chapter you expected to see but we haven't finished the Quidditch chapters ;-)

Isanxd – glad you enjoy how Buffy interacts with her friends, more on Tom and Dumbledore next chapter

Nerdalertwarning – sorry life is tough for you right now. I hope it gets better and you enjoyed the chapter :-)

And to the guests who reviewed, thank you for reviewing and hope you enjoyed this one.

The Quidditch chapters are not over yet. I think the next part of the story might intrigue you...