Slayer revenge prt 3 edit
Dumbledore opened the door, quietly warning Malfoy and Riddle to, "keep the noise down there are people sleeping," before allowing them through into the Infirmary.
"Wait here," Dumbledore said, motioning to the empty seats set beneath a dimmed light. "It's late, Madam Bones will have doubtless retired for the night and I'll need to wake her." He walked off, heading for the office and the nurse's private rooms.
As soon as he was out of sight, Tom abruptly let go of Malfoy. The blonde moaned in surprise, wobbled, and then staggered to the nearest chair. He slumped into it, holding his head in his hands, and groaning softly. Tom watched him warily before taking the furthest seat and perching on the edge, ready to jump away from Malfoy. Abraxas was still acting oddly- he might grab him again or throw up. Tom wasn't sure which would be worse, being pressed against Malfoy's sweaty neck or vomited over. The vomit, he supposed. It won by a narrow margin, purely because the smell tended to linger.
"Buffy's still in here, isn't she?" Malfoy mumbled into his hands.
Moonlight provided Tom with enough light to see the shape of curtains drawn around Buffy's bed. "Yes, and you still owe her an apology," he hissed, adding an insult in parseltongue.
"It's no wonder she fell unconscious," continued Malfoy, blissfully unaware that his friend had just called him a 'brainless moron'. "I never thought a Dementor would be so... terrifying. Just being close to one stops your brain from working."
Tom gave him a sideways look from under his lids. Malfoy's brain rarely worked at the best of times.
Malfoy continued, "I tried to cast a Patronus. It failed. All I could think about was getting away. I thought I was doomed."
Tom didn't bother to reply. His eyes drifted down the ward again, his thoughts on the American Witch.When Buffy slept, did she dream of him? Or... Dearborn?A chill ran through him, followed by anger. Why should I care?! But he would prefer her to dream of Dementors than the Gryffindor.He wrenched his head away, forcing himself to concentrate on Malfoy.
Malfoy had his eyes closed and had tilted his head back, resting it against the wall. "Merlin's beard," he said, covering a yawn. "I'm exhausted! I feel like sleeping for a week! Do you think my soul is irreparably damaged?"
Riddle shrugged. Assessing the chances and wondering how any change in Malfoy would affect him personally. Would it make Malfoy less arrogant or more stupid? Would it stop him from hogging the bathroom in the morning? Tom sighed, knowing that – despite all Malfoy's faults – he was a useful ally to have.
"I doubt it is," he replied, keeping his voice low and friendly. "I think Madam Bones will prescribe chocolate, and dose you with Pepper-Up. By tomorrow night, you'll be back on the Quidditch pitch."
The light came on in the nurse's office, and Tom instantly sat straighter. Seeing Malfoy still slumped, he reached over to give Abraxas a discreet prod in the ribs.
"What?" Abraxas asked, opening his eyes drowsily.
Tom nodded to the nurse's office. The professor and the nurse had appeared at the door and were now making their way towards them. Madam Bones dressed in a thick, tartan dressing gown and wearing a concerned expression.
"Right, Mr Malfoy," she said briskly, without any trace of sleep in her voice. "Let's get you into a bed so that I might examine you."
Tom helped Abraxas while the nurse scurried around, lighting lamps and pulling the covers back on the nearest bed. Then, she shooed away Tom and drew the curtained screens, closeting herself and Professor Dumbledore in with the patient.
Tom felt at a loss. He'd neither been dismissed nor asked to wait, so he lingered. After a moment or so, curiosity got the better of him and he stepped closer to the curtained screen, listening
"Are you sure it was a Dementor you saw?" Madam Bones asked.
"Absolutely!" Malfoy cried. "I recognised it straight away.!"
"The runes are not showing any of the usual signs..." Tom heard the nurse's wand swish through the air as she conducted another diagnostic charm. "No, not a Dementor. I think someone's played a trick on you."
Dumbledore replied, "A boggart, perhaps? Professor Merrythought told me she's noticed signs of one is in the castle. I'll let the caretaker know..."
'So Malfoy's attacker was a boggart and not a Dementor?' Tom chuckled softly. Instead of casting a simple Riddikulus spell, Malfoy had run through Hogwarts screaming. He'd claimed to be dying! Ha!
"Whatcha doing?" Buffy asked. Her overly-perky voice came from directly behind him.
Tom almost jumped out of his skin. He spun around, robes flying out around him as he faced the small Witch.
Buffy bounced on her bare feet and grinned. "You're jumpy, Tom-Tom. Anyone would think you'd been attacked by a Dementor, except, who'd wanna kiss you?"
Tom placidly regarded her from under lidded eyes. Her snark didn't bother him, the way she'd so easily sneaked up on him did. How she cast a Silent Feet Charm? Yet, he remembered her doing something similar in the orphanage before she'd had either her wand or her magic.
"You shouldn't creep up on people or you might find yourself hexed," he warned, discreetly returning his wand to his robe pocket.
Buffy rolled her eyes. Tom noticed that her hair, which fell loose in golden waves around her shoulders, was mussed up on one side where she'd lain on it. He thought about telling her, then decided not to mention it. When he'd flicked through 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches' earlier, he'd noticed a section on paying compliments and avoiding pointing out flaws.
With that in mind, he added, "I wouldn't like to see you hurt." He gave her his 'charming-boy' smile, which seemed to work well with Witches. Well, the Parkinsons, anyway.
Buffy's grin got wider. It was definitely a cheeky grin and not the dimpled response he was used to. "Only said your name, like, five times," she replied. "If you hadn't been engrossed in your ear wiggling, you'd have heard me – ."
"I wasn't eavesdropping."
"Was too."
"Was not."
"You so was, and if you don't keep your voice down, they'll hear you." And then she grabbed his hand, holding it firmly in her own.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, shocked by the sudden contact. This was the second time someone had grabbed him out of the blue, although Buffy's small, warm hand felt nothing like Malfoy rubbing his repugnant body on him.
She began to pull him away from Malfoy's bed. "I'm taking us to a place where we can be alone," she whispered. The wide smile she flashed at him made his heart flip, any thoughts of avoiding her to leave his head, and his feet followed without thought. "We can go to my bed."
Tom's eyes widened, his heart rate picked up and his breath caught in his throat. Her bed? She wanted 'him' in 'her' bed? It was forward behaviour, even for 1942. The Slytherin in him, the part which understood the devious nature of others, started to question it. Why now? Why here? What does she gain have to gain from doing this?
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, looking from her to the unmade bed. He wanted confirmation from her, while at the same time he was trying to work out if this was a good idea.
He'd far more to lose than she had. He was a prefect, and if they were caught together he'd never be offered the coveted Head Boy badge. If they took his prefect badge, he'd lose a lot of opportunities to search for Salazar's secret chamber. Once again he was torn. His head was telling him to politely refuse and his... hormones were saying that he should take what was offered and not question it.
Buffy closed the curtains behind them. "I don't see why not. I'll cast a Silencing Charm so they won't hear us. Fiona says I ace them," she added proudly.
She picked up her wand from the side table and cast the Silencing spell. Tom felt her magic wash over him, sending his own – already thrumming with his heightened emotions – tingling in response.
"See?" Buffy said smugly. "Told you I was good."
She dropped onto the bed, patting the mattress and inviting him to sit by her. He sat, intensely aware of the shortness of her nightdress, the way the fabric pulled at her breasts, and the warmth of her body next to his.
"Spill."
He blinked. "Er, sorry, what?"
She smiled – smugly – making Tom feel uneasy.
"What about Dumbledore?" he pressed. If he came looking for him, he might look into Buffy's cubicle.
"Yeah, what about Dumbledore?" she replied, bouncing on the bed and looking up at him expectantly.
Tom didn't reply. He knew Buffy's brain didn't work like most people's but surely it had occurred to her that they might be caught? Didn't she care that they could be expelled for lewd behaviour or at least given a year's worth of detention? He should tell her. But he had the scent of her hair in his nostrils, the warmth of her body next to his own, and her magic was entwined around his.
"Hey, planet Earth to Tom Riddle, currently orbiting the Moon. What's the sitch with Dumbledore and Malfoy?" Buffy wrinkled her nose. "That was Malfoy doing the groaning, wasn't it? Did someone hex him?"
'She wants to talk first. That's good. Play for time, let me think things through before we get into bed together.' He hated not being in control. He wasn't one to be led by emotions, daydreams, or his... hormonal fantasies. Except... she was next to him and magic was strumming a tattoo inside him. His collar suddenly felt too tight. He needed...
To answer her question!
He smiled a little, remembering Malfoy's melodramatics. "Malfoy claimed he'd been attacked by a Dementor." He was about to say more, but she cut him off.
"A Dementor? In Hogwarts? Do you think it's one of those that attacked me?" She didn't wait for his reply, continuing, "I need to go find it and give it hell."
She needed to find it and give it hell? Admiration bloomed in him. It was no wonder he liked her. His lips tugged up into a dark smile. She's like me. When wronged, she seeks vengeance... It doesn't matter who or what it is, revenge and power are everything.
"Don't waste your time." He began loosening his tie. "Dumbledore thinks it's a boggart."
He pulled the tie off and pushed it into his blazer pocket. Then moved on to undoing the top buttons of his shirt, turning a dark smouldering gaze onto her as he did so. The effect was lost, she'd dropped her gaze to her hands at the word 'boggart'.
Tom examined her face: taking in the slant of her cheekbones, pert nose, and curved bow to her lips. There was worry there and it gave him the strange desire to kiss it away. She had nothing to worry about, not while she was at his side. Salazar, I want to do more than kiss her.
He reached across, placing a finger below her chin and lifting her face so that she looked at him. Anxiety rolled off her in great waves.
"What will they do about the boggart?" she asked. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and then lower – lingering on where the buttons had been undone.
Who cared about Malfoy's boggart? Right now, Tom didn't care for anything but her.
"Most likely they'll search for it. Professor Merrythought will use it in her DADA lessons." He leaned closer until he could see images of himself reflected in her eyes. Magic prickled his skin, it pulsated around him, and the scent of her filled his nose. His hand grazed her hip and settled – stroking. No underwear... naked beneath a thin nightdress.
"Use?" she asked, her voice husky.
Tom nodded. He didn't want to talk about Dementors or boggarts any longer. He didn't want to speak, he wanted to explore... with his mouth.
"Used," Tom leaned in, his lips puckering as they descended towards Buffy's, "and then discarded."
A bedpan flew through the air, bouncing off Tom's shoulder and clattering to the floor. Shocked, Tom jumped to his feet, spinning around with his wand in hand, searching for the attacker. He hissed in parseltongue, his face like thunder.
"Peeves!" he snarled, furious. "Where are you! You know you aren't allowed in here. The Headmaster will hear of this."
Oddly, the poltergeist neither laughed nor threw anything else. Tom thought it must have spied its chance to make a fool of him and disappeared. It was probably in the castle walls somewhere, laughing away to itself.
He turned, intent on returning to Buffy to find her on her feet and leaning casually against the side table. It didn't matter, that position he could work with...
"What does that mean?" she asked, "The boggart will be discarded when Merrythought has finished with it?" Her eyes betrayed a myriad of emotions: panic, desire, sadness, and anger.
Tom dragged a hand through his hair, frustrated at the question. "In the department of Mysteries they keep jars of specimens for the wizards to experiment on. I imagine it will join others of its kind on a shelf."
"In a jar, on a shelf," Buffy echoed, looking ill.
He could make her feel better. Make her forget about the stupid boggart that deserved only to exist on a shelf for the rest of eternity. They could carry on from where they'd left off. With that thought in mind, he stepped over to her.
"Forget about it," he said, reaching out with his hand. "The best thing that could happen to it is magical dissection."
Buffy's jaw dropped. "What a lousy thing to say. Boggarts aren't evil. I'm not gonna stand by while they capture it and cart it off for experimentation!"
Tom's hand dropped. Lousy? She'd just called him lousy?He felt as if he'd been slapped. Anger and humiliation made him lash out.
"There's a name for girls like you."
Her face paled. "What?"
"Girls who lead boys on," he hissed.
"Lead..?! Um, that's a big nope! You're throwing one of your hissy fits because you had a bedpan thrown at you, and because I don't agree with you."
He let out another low hiss. Lie! There was more to it than that and she knew it.
"I've no idea what's got into you," she went on.
He was too choked to say, 'You. You've got into me'.
The silence lengthened. Both refusing to break it: both upset, confused, and believing that they'd been wronged.
A cough came from behind them.
Tom spun, wand out and ready to hex. Buffy was even faster. She'd grabbed her wand off the table and threw a Knock-Back jinx in one fluid move. It hurtled towards the unsuspecting professor who only managed to bring his wand up and counter it at the very last moment.
"Professor!" squeaked Buffy. Horrified at what she'd just done, she covered her face with her hand and peeped at him through her fingers. "I'm sorry. I thought you were a creeper." Then she spoilt the apology by adding, "Which you sort of are, since you crept in here."
"Do Dementors – and I presume you mean Dementors by the term 'creeper' – normally cough to announce their presence?" Dumbledore's tone was icy. He eyed them both, his gaze lingering on Tom's unbuttoned shirt and Buffy's flushed cheeks. "What's going on here?"
"Talking," replied Buffy. She looked nervous. "I heard someone groan, came out, spotted Tom, and we came in here to talk. I cast a Silencing spell so that we wouldn't disturb anyone. I'm sorry about the jinxing, you sorta surprised me."
"I see." Sensibly, Dumbledore didn't ask further questions, saying, "Tom, I've been looking for you. Madam Bones says that Abraxas is well enough to return to his dormitory. It was a boggart attack so no harm done."
"That's very good to hear, sir." Tom falling back into 'Polite-Boy' mode with practised ease. "I shall help him at once." He started to move away, but then, remembering he'd removed his tie, paused to search his pockets.
"Thank you, Tom." Dumbledore looked back at Buffy, who shifted guiltily and appeared to find the tiled pattern on the infirmary floor interesting. "Did you make the floo call to your mother, Buffy?"
She nodded. "Uh-huh. She wasn't happy about the Dementor. She said I was at Hogwarts to study and not fly around the skies on a broom. She said I should stick to studying and stay out of trouble."
Tom took his time knotting his tie, interested in the conversation.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, wise words. Will you be able to follow her instructions? It seems that, despite having a full study schedule, you have a penchant for locating trouble."
Buffy shrugged. "What can I say? Guess I'm just a lucky girl. What's gonna happen to the boggart? The one that attacked Malfoy tonight?"
Dumbledore regarded her thoughtfully as he mulled over the question. "Oh, once it's been located Professor Merrythought will want it for her classes. She was only saying the other day that she lacked one. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Buffy replied. "Just kinda interested, in 'not all that interested' kinda way."
"I don't want you going off searching for it, if that is what you're planning," Dumbledore warned.
Tom finished knotting his tie. The conversation was interesting. Dumbledore didn't trust Buffy to obey the rules. Was the professor right? Would Buffy start hunting for the boggart?
"Staying out of trouble, that's me," Buffy replied glibly.
The professor looked unconvinced. "See that you do. I can say – with good authority – that most boggarts are nothing like the one you met at the orphanage."
Tom dropped his wand. It clattered loudly as it hit the tiles and rolled away. When he crouched down, looking for it, he saw that it had rolled all the way to Dumbledore's foot.
Dumbledore bent, picking up the long, distinctive yew wand. "Here you go, butter-fingers," he said, handing it over. "I think we should bid Buffy good night. She has several important people to speak to tomorrow and she must be exhausted from today's events." He put a hand on Tom's shoulder and began steering him away from Buffy's bed.
Tom gritted his teeth. Dumbledore's hand felt overly-heavy on his shoulder. Tom wished he'd remove it. Was it there for a reason? Had he worked out that he was the one who'd put a boggart in Buffy's wardrobe? And why was it different to other boggarts?
The professor released him when they reached Abraxas' cubicle. "Tom," he said quitely, his tone sombre. "I need to ask you something. Something that Abraxas said has caused me grave concern."
"Yes, professor?" Tom waited, feeling more and more murderous towards Abraxas. The boy had caused trouble the entire day, and it seemed that it was not over yet.
"He said you have a large snake? Could you please explain?"
Tom had already thought of how he'd answer that question. Using his slightly-embarrassed-but-always-eager-to-help-pupil expression, he replied, "Ah, that... You see..." He became bashful, hardly able to meet the older man's eye because of his 'embarrassment'. "Well, I don't like to boast, but the other boys saw... and... now they like to tease me about it."
Dumbledore's face dropped, and Tom turned his head away – not wanting the older man to read his amusement or see his smirk. That should stop the nosey old man from asking too many intrusive questions in future.
..**_***-***_
A/N;
I hope you liked that one. It was written three times! Tom was determined to act the teenager in it. He's sort of frustrated by his feelings, not sure how to behave and read the situation wrongly. In canon, Slughorn and Dumbledore always remembered him in the company of males which is how I try to write my Tom.
And Buffy... well, Angel used to be in her bedroom all the time, but we all know Tom is no angel. ;-)
Tom sort of blew the chances of a kiss when he said her boggart would end up dissected. Never upset a Slayer, Tom!
Tom is a clever boy, let's see how long it takes before he realises Buffy has a boggart for a familiar (and the one he 'gave' her) :-D
I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to all who left reviews last time. Sorry I can't answer the guests personally, but know I read and appreciate every one of them.