The Only Love: Chapter Two
A/N: Maelie's English is not perfect, but her accent comes out through her dialouge. A big thanks to my Beta-Reader Hermione's Harmony
Tom paced the corridor that lead to the Room of Requirement, watching as two large mahogany doors appeared in the blank stretch of wall before him. The sound of heavy footfalls reached his ears and he glanced up to see Avery, Nott and Lestrange running toward him.
"I thought I taught you boys something about punctuality!" Tom seethed; the boys stared rather ruefully at the floor. "Where is Mulciber?"
"That's actually why we are late." Nott began. "We had to make a detour to avoid Dumbledore, but Mulciber lagged behind and got caught."
Tom clenched his fists, furious; it was just like Dumbledore to ruin his plans. He entered the Room of Requirement, not wanting to waste any more of the valuable time that they had, and the others followed him instantly. He made his way over to the circular table placed in the centre of the room and sat in the superior chair, waiting for the others to imitate him.
"What are we going to do about Dumbledore?" asked Lestrange.
"Let's kill him!" Avery proposed, and the others nodded in agreement. Tom shook his head angrily.
"Even all of you amateurs put together would never be able to defeat Dumbledore." He said.
"You could, though." Lestrange said furtively.
The Knights of Walpurgis were one of the only opportunities that Tom got to express his skill in dark magic at Hogwarts. He had formed the group for followers, not friends; he wasn't foolish enough to pretend ignorance to the fact that a great wizard – in fact, the most powerful the wizarding world would ever see – required accomplices, and more of them.
So far, he had merely taught them some mediocre dark magic; however, the main purpose of the group – for him – was to have something live to practise more advanced spells on.
"Dumbledore will be dealt with eventually." Tom said; the thought of Dumbledore's demise made his lips curve slightly upward.
At that precise moment, the mahogany doors were wrenched open and Mulciber ran into the room.
"Sorry." Mulciber spluttered to Tom. "Dumbledore caught me; he even gave me detention for the next two weeks!"
Tom stood in reply. "Let this be a lesson to all of you; perhaps, then, you'll think twice about being caught." He pointed his wand at Mulciber.
"Crucio!"
Tom was sitting at his usual table in Potions, copying down what Slughorn was writing on the blackboard, when the dungeon door suddenly burst open. Glancing up, he saw that it was the new girl; her cheeks were flushed and she appeared to be breathless.
Slughorn revolved on the spot, annoyed at the person who had interrupted his class, but smiled in understanding when he saw Maelie.
"Sorry – I - am – late – Professor." Maelie panted.
"Not to worry, my dear; I'll allow it to slide this one time seeing as you're new." Professor Slughorn said kindly. "Get lost, did we?"
Maelie nodded, still attempting to get her breath back.
Why don't you take a seat over there behind Riddle and Avery?" Slughorn indicated the empty seat behind Tom before turning back to complete what he had been writing on the blackboard.
Maelie took her seat, arranging her parchment on the desk; Tom noticed that they were scribbled with French. He turned his attention back to the blackboard, not wanting to be caught spying at her. However, Avery was less subtle; he gaped at Maelie.
"I'd be happy to show you around – we don't want you getting lost again." He said with a smile.
Maelie glanced up momentarily at him. "Thank you, but I manage on my own." She returned to her work.
Tom glanced up at the sound of Nott, Lestrange and Mulciber's sniggers; Avery, unabashed, addressed Maelie again.
"Look Fouqat, I'm really concerned for your well-being. It's a big castle, and I would hate it if anything happened to such a pretty girl as yourself."
How pathetic, Tom thought.
"Look – err, 'iddle?" Maelie glanced at Tom, unsure. He smiled at her.
"Oh." Maelie looked quite embarrassed. "You Avery then." She said, looking at him. "Well, Avery, I ama big girl and I can 'andle things myself, but it was sweet of you to offer."
"I'm just looking out for you –"
"Sweet." Maelie said, before returning to her work and ignoring him.
It seemed that Nott, Lestrange and Mulciber could contain themselves no longer; they howled with laughter at the rejection of their friend – or, rather, being rejected more than once. Avery seemed ready to fire curses at them but, thankfully, Slughorn called for the class's attention before he could so much as draw his wand.
"Today, class, we'll begin to brew the Draught of Peace – I presume you have already copied the instructions down." Slughorn's eyes narrowed at Avery's blank parchment.
There was a scraping of stools as everyone made their way over to the store cupboard; Tom gathered the necessary ingredients and began to chop and measure them; he glanced up momentarily to see Maelie occupying the cauldron beside him.
Tom was intrigued by this girl; he wanted to know why she had moved to Hogwarts. Usually, Tom didn't care if people around him failed – in fact, he preferred it – but he wanted to know more about Maelie and, when he noticed that she was measuring her powdered moonstone wrong, he decided to use a more tactful approach than Avery.
"Maelie, is it?" He asked her, already knowing the answer.
"Yes." Maelie glanced up, confused.
"You're measuring the powdered moonstone wrong." He indicated to the measuring jug that she had been using. "It's supposed to be measured by scales."
Maelie scanned her Draught of Peace notes and transferred her powdered moonstone to the scales. "Thank you." She said quietly, avoiding his eyes.
"Perhaps you could ask Professor Slughorn if you could take a vile with you." Tom suggested. "I'm sure he would be happy to give you some of mine." Maelie stared at him blankly. "Draught of Peace relieves anxiety and agitation." He explained.
I shouldn't have had to explain, Tom thought. Slughorn had written the potion's purpose down on the blackboard – they had copied it.
The girl was obviously no intellectual threat to him.
"Of course, I have wrote it down." She blushed as she checked her parchment. "You must think me an idiot."
Yes, that's exactly what I think. "Not at all." Tom smiled.
"I am not usually like this – it make me flustered, being new." Maelie said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. This was a trait that Tom considered very irritating.
Tom couldn't care less what she was usually like or not; however, being an exemplary student, he always forced a smile as one girl or another recounted their melancholy life stories. Maelie returned to her potion and Tom imitated her, with the result that his potion turned turquoise blue – perfect.
"It is supposed to be dark purple?"
Tom couldn't believe this girl. How difficult is it to read a piece of parchment? He thought mutinously.
"No, turquoise blue." He glanced into her cauldron; it was a catastrophe.
"Merde!" She exclaimed, throwing a wistful glance at Tom's perfectly brewed potion. He recognised a few French phrases here and there but, otherwise, he had no idea what she was saying. However, he wasn't going to ask her – he was better than her.
Tom looked up and saw Slughorn heading toward them, attracted by Maelie's exclamations. The Professor surveyed Tom's potion and beamed.
"Excellent, m'boy!" He said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "What have you achieved, Miss Foquat?" He peered inside Maelie's cauldron and cringed.
"Not to worry, dear, I'm sure Tom wouldn't mind giving you some tips. Stick with him and then you'll be up to standard in no time."
Slughorn walked away. "Sticking with Tom" was the last thing that Tom wanted Maelie to do – he already had to endure the presence of the Slytherin boys, although they had proven themselves useful recently. As if reading his mind, Maelie spoke.
"Don't worry, I am not going to bother you. My mind is jumbled with French and English at the moment. I am fluent in both; it has just been a long while since I have been to an English – speaking country and I get word wrong."
Tom contemplated the fact that this girl was obviously conceited if she went around boasting that she was fluent in two languages; apart from a couple of words here and there, English was the only language he spoke – apart from Parseltongue, of course.
"Your French accent isn't that strong." Tom commented, wanting to change the subject so he didn't have to think about the arduous challenge of baby-sitting Maelie.
"I was born in England and moved to France when I was six." Maelie said; she was twirling her hair again.
"Why did you move to France?"
The bell rang. "That, Mr Riddle" Maelie began, gathering up her belongings and packing them away. "Is not your concern."
"Homework: Write a foot of parchment on your observations from the Draught of Peace." Slughorn called over the hubbub, knowing only two well that the class were attempting to make as much noise as possible so they could pretend that they hadn't heard their homework task.
Tom watched as Maelie left, irritated; girls did not walk away from Tom Riddle, nor did they refuse to answer his questions. This girl obviously considered herself superior to him; but, thought Tom pompously, who had achieved a perfect Draught of Peace in class today?
She would soon learn about him – then she would never dare race away again.