A/N: PLEASE READ! Hello! I haven't updated in quite a while and I apologize for that. I've had so much school work to do (and it's only been the first week D:) and I haven't had much time to upload a new chapter. I wanted to say thanks for all the new nice reviews and all the favorites and follows and the views. :) It warms my dippy fan-girl heart. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It's fairly short and I don't really know how I feel about it. :/ I just thought that I needed to upload something and today was perfect. Anyway, after my useless ramblings ENJOY! :)

Disclaimer: My first initial is 'J', my second initial is not 'K' and my last name isn't 'Rowling'.

Ciao! Lovelies! :)

Denial

"Damn it." Tom muttered, under his breath.

He was really losing it today. He was very, very, dangerously close to snapping and he honestly didn't want to have to go through all the trouble of obliviating Bazinett. First he had to swallow down all the chunks in his throat because of Everett's suffocating 'affections', then he had to deal with Goyle's lack of intelligence, then he had to deal with both Crabbe and Goyle, because Goyle decided to disobey him and tell Crabbe about the private mission he had specifically told him not to tell anyone; and now he had to listen to Bazinett's useless chatter. And on top of that, he still had a midnight astronomy class to attend to. Oh, and let's not forget about all the mountains of homework he needed to finish and the knights meeting. Tom put it on his mental to-do list to only have knights meetings every other week once a week. Dark Lords needed their damn power naps. Thank Merlin there was no prefect meeting tonight.

"—so, I was thinking that we could enchant the ceiling to make it look like a lightning storm and maybe invite the ghosts..."

Bronwyn Bazinett abruptly stopped speaking and looked over at the handsome Headboy. He wasn't listening to a word she was saying. The pale young man was perched by the fire, facing her. A long pointer finger and a long thumb, pinching at the bridge of his immaculate nose. He wasn't looking at her, but Bronwyn had been around Tom long enough to know that he was in one of his moods again.

She sighed heavily and tucked a lock of copper hair behind her ear. 'Damn-language Bronwyn, language—him. He's such a baby. He's not the only one who has other plans.' she thought, thinking about Ignatius; whom she had promised to meet in the Gryffindor common room about five minutes ago.

"Are you ok?" she asked him carefully. Her bright hazel eyes eying him thoughtfully.

Tom raised his dark eyes to meet hers.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." he replied smoothly. 'No, I'm not ruddy fine. I ruddy going to die young—'

She frowned at him and said; "Look Riddle, we both want to get this done quickly and in order to do that you need to cooperate. I have a life outside of here you know."

Tom raised an elegant brow at her and smirked. "Don't you mean a certain Ignatius Prewett to shag?"

Bronwyn's normally creamy face, flooded with various shades of pink and orange. She really honestly disliked Tom at times. He could get so annoying...and scary. A bit scary, yeah.

"Ye—n-no! No! That's none of your business!"

Tom smirked at her. Bazinett was so easy to toy with. It was funny watching her blaze up.

The hazel-eyed head girl glared at him. She was really tempted to maim him right now, but she honestly didn't want to risk losing her position as head girl. Even if it meant putting up with the stick up the arse, arrogant, Slytherin head boy. 'Honestly, what's got his knickers in a twist now? Is it that time of the month again?'

And then: "Is it a girl?" she asked him, a mischievous grin breaking out onto her face. She raised a copper brow at him.

Riddle seemed to pale even more at the innocent inquiry. His jaw was set and sealed tight, and his knuckles were turning an even more evident shade of white. He looked like he'd been shoved off his high horse.

Bronwyn's mocking smile only grew at his much unanticipated reaction, her hazel eyes widened in delight. 'It's definitely a girl.'

"No." he said this with a tight firmness, which only caused (much to his dismay) Bazinett to mouth away.

"Ooooh! Tommy-kins is smitten with a girl! You must tell me who she is! Is it Everett? No, actually. I don't think she's your type, she's too...how do I say it...oh bloody hell, she's too plain slutty. Oh! Is it Alice? Or maybe it's—No! It's Wally! Or maybe it's Arisa—no! That's not possible; she's like the asian version of Everett. I know! It's Guin! No—it's definitely Druella. Yes! It's Druella isn't it? Actually, no. I think she has a crush on her brother. Maybe it's Faye—I've got it! I saw you gawking at her during breakfast! It's that new girl! The American—"

"No! No. No. No!" he barked out, no longer able to tolerate her constant yammering.

He felt like vomiting. Bazinett thinks he fancies the American mudblooded, hoodlum. He wanted to kill himself. Although, he wouldn't actually do that. He would kill Bazinett and then the mudblood. He despised both of them. Oh! He can't even fathom the thought of fancying the American reject. It was too disgusting and ghastly. He had only recently met her the previous night and he already hated that American barbarian. He hated her the moment he laid eyes on her vulgar attire and the minute she opened her smarting mouth. Tom has never hated anyone that quickly before (save for Dumbledore) and has never hated anyone with such an indescribable passion, that it almost felt so good for some odd, abnormal reason.

The stupid Gryffindor head girl gave him a perplexed look that morphed into one of astonishment.

"You don't fancy a girl?" she gasped out.

"What?" Tom snapped. His livid blue eyes immediately shot up to meet her hazel orbs. 'She's mental. Absolutely mental.' His dark azure eyes darkened into black slits of fury and exasperation as he realized what she was suggesting.

And then: "Blimey! Don't be daft Bazinett. I am not queer. I don't fancy anyone. Ok? I don't ruddy fancy anyone and I'm not ruddy queer! Can we just get on with planning the bloody ball?"

"So, now you want to help plan the ball, eh? Tsk, tsk. I'm not letting you slip away that easily. So, you do fancy Selena?"

"It's Sabrina, you damn bimbo. And no! I ruddy don't fancy that thing!"

Screw killing her. He was going to torture her and make her beg for death. And then heal her for a few minutes and then torture her again and then feed her mangled body to the basilisk while she was still alive. He didn't care if she was pureblooded.

Bronwyn shrugged her shoulders and smirked at him. Normally, she would have been highly offended by the fact that he had just called her a prostitute (and slightly afraid because of how peeved he looked at the moment. Was that a flash of red in his eyes?); But right now she was too excited to perceive the subtle menacing, warning looks he was giving her. She picked up her school bag and made her way towards the portrait hole, throwing him a knowing wink.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to meet Ignatius. We'll finish it tomorrow. Don't worry Tommy dearest, I won't tell a soul that you fancy Madame Sabrina Riddle...ONLY if you give me all the details ASAP!"

Tom's face became nearly transparent. There was no color left to drain from his already white face. 'If there's a God out there, please, PLEASE, give me strength.' He was holding onto his yew wand so tightly, he was sure it was going to snap in half.

Bronwyn shook her head, still smiling and made her way towards Gryffindor tower; running and taking it three steps at a time up the stairs. She was late by half an hour and Ignatius was probably worrying about her. Oh, she had so much to tell him!

REVIEW PLEASE! :)