A/N: Oh SWEET JESUS, it has been such a long time. Oh dear. Anyways, yeah, I apologize for that UNGODLY delay, but oh well. What can you do? This chapter is short. Well, short for me. And that is annoying the HELL out of me. AND WHAT IS UP WITH MY CAPS TODAY? Anyways, thanks to all those who review/fave/alert and even read. Tell me what you think about this one, and perhaps you won't have to wait a month for the next one. Hahaha, that was a joke. See? Haha? I'm kidding. The next update should be out next weekend. Or the weekend after that, at the very most.

Disclaimer? No, I don't believe I have one for you today.

Chapter Fifteen: This Fight's Fixed

Tom walked ahead of her, his shoulders set straight and his eyes narrowed in the darkness. A disillusionment charm masked both him and her, hiding them away from any prying eyes.

Neither of them said a word as they made their way back into the castle, climbing staircase after staircase until they finally got to the seventh floor. Once there, Tom conjured up the door to the Room of Requirement, and after entering, found Isabella collapsed on the floor still.

Morgan followed in after Tom, closing the door behind them and eyeing the changes to her sanctuary with irritation. She couldn't wait to kick Tom and Isabella out of there.

"Alright," Tom kneeled down beside Isabella's fallen form, her red hair splayed out around her. "Don't say a word."

Morgan sank down onto the lone couch in the room, her eyebrows raised, "What're you gunna do?"

Tom shot her an irritated glance, "I'm going to modify her memories."

"Sounds complicated."

"It is. And it requires complete silence, Leah. Shut up."

Morgan mimed zipping her lips up and throwing away the key, turning her attention to some of the books. She furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance when she read some of the titles. 'A Guide to Pureblood Heritage', 'Mudbloods: The Inferior Half of Society', and 'Classic Wizardry Fairytales' were just a select few of the titles. Though Morgan was more puzzled than pissed off by the last one.

She jumped to her feet lightly and began walking the perimeter of the room, taking care to stay out of Tom's way. His mumbling filled the silence, his words perhaps making sense to him, but not her.

"It's done."

Morgan shrugged, "Okay."

"I'm going to place her outside and I want you to wake her up."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"I just broke up with her, and she fainted. You were walking down the corridor when you saw me trying to wake her up." Tom explained evenly. "That's the story were going to stick with. When we do wake her up, she won't have any recollection about her involvement. Then, when she leaves, we shall have our long-delayed conversation."

"You broke up with her….and she fainted. Huh, someone thinks a bit highly of themselves."

"I don't need to think highly of myself, everyone else does that for me."

Morgan turned back towards Isabella's unconscious body and picked up her legs. Without much ceremony, she began dragging the witch across the floor and to the door. "Oh, so the Heir of Slytherin does have a sense of humor, albeit a conceited one, but one nonetheless."

"It wasn't a joke, merely the truth," Tom replied. He watched Morgan struggled with Isabella's body for a moment before rubbing a hand across his tired face. "You are honestly unbelievable. You have a wand for a reason."

Morgan straightened her back and put her hands on her hips, "You appreciate things more if you actually work for them."

"That has no practical application in this situation, Leah," Tom lazily pulled out his wand and flicked his wrist in one smooth movement. Isabella's body hovered above the ground, her dainty shoes eyelevel with Morgan. She pushed the shoe away, scowling.

A small, mocking smile touched Tom's lips, "Open the door."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." She would have added a snarky 'Your Majesty,' to the end of her sentence, but she figured Riddle would have actually enjoyed the words.

When she finally made it out into the seventh floor corridor she reached her arm around and rubbed her shoulders. The muscles in her arms were aching. Really, when had she gotten so out of shape?

"Okay," Tom set Isabella down a little ways away from the Room of Requirement wall. "I'm going to wake her up now, alright?"

Morgan sighed, but nodded regardless.

A few mumbled words later, Isabella was darting up from her ungraceful position on the floor. Her head of red locks flew widely as she turned her head this way and that. "T-Tom, what happened?" She looked at him with an empty expression.

"Uh, you fainted," Morgan threw in from across the hall, her back to the stone wall. "And Tom was trying to wake you up…right?"

Tom, who was kneeling down beside Isabella nodded seriously, "Are you alright, Isabella?" He offered her a hand up, and she took it graciously. As soon as he pulled her to her feet though, and tried to pull away from her, she grabbed onto his shoulders desperately.

"I apologize, my knees are still unsteady," The Pureblood rested her head on Riddle's shoulder sleepily. "Come on, Tom, let's go back to the Common Room."

Tom very convincingly rubbed the back of his head in a sheepish manner.

"Perhaps he should tell you why you fainted, exactly," Morgan snickered. She refused to have sympathy for a Pureblood supremacist.

Tom shot her a glare that she was sure wasn't completely scripted. "Yes," he mumbled very distinctly, "We need to talk."

Confusion flickered in Isabella's gaze, "What is it, Tom?"

"We should do this in private," Riddle shot a quick glance back at Morgan, and she knew that this time it was for Isabella's benefit.

"What? No!" Marston shook her head fiercely, gripping the front of Tom's shirt in anxiety. "She can hear, I don't care, just tell me now."

Tom was about to concede defeat, as per discussed, when Morgan interrupted. "You know what; I think that Tom is right. This is a conversation better fit for a private area. I'll just leave."

Riddle turned his head towards her, and a look of carefully controlled anger distorted his expression, "Do you, Leah?"

Morgan giggled, a strange sound she wasn't used to emitting, "Oh yes, I do."

Isabella glanced between the two of them, her arms still wrapped tightly around Tom, "First name basis, what's going on here?!" The beginnings of tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

"Absolutely nothing," Morgan chimed. She gave the former couple a slight and cheery wave, "Toodles!"

---

Morgan chuckled all the way out of the castle, basking in the warmth of the sun. There was certainly going to be hell to pay when Tom extracted himself from Marston, but that was a worry for another time.

Most of the other students were out and about, taking full advantage of the unusual and unexpected sunlight. Morgan casted her blue eyes around the field by the lake, searching for Kayden, Charlus, or more importantly, James. Now that she had sneaked away from Tom, she would love to go flying with him.

It didn't take long to find the trio. They were camped out under the oak tree, Charlus and Kayden taking turns battering a rock at each other with a fat stick. James watched with what Morgan could recognize as feigned interest.

She skipped over to them, "Hello, darlings!"

Kayden looked up immediately, turning his attention away from Charlus who was in the process of batting the rock. It smacked the other Gryffindor in the head. "OW! POTTER, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

Charlus glanced back at Morgan, gave her a small smile, and then proceeded to dash back towards the castle. Kayden chased after him, right on his friend's heels.

"They act like toddlers," Morgan pointed out fondly, sitting down next to James.

The older student nodded, "I thought you wouldn't be able to come outside today. Some essay you had to do."

"I finished early, and was wondering if those flying lessons were still up for the taking."

James gave her a wide grin, the scar across his cheek crinkling with the movement. "Of course," he bounded to his feet and offered her a large hand. She took it immediately. "You have perfect timing; the Hufflepuff's just got off from practice, so the pitch is free."

"Okay."

James dragged her all the way down to the Quidditch Pitch, which was indeed empty. She had yet to come down there since going back in time, but the structure seemed pretty much the same. Same six loops; same stands; and same soft, turf like grass. "Give me a moment," James let go of her hand and ran through one of the player entrances to the pitch.

It was a couple of minutes later when he returned with his broom in hand. Morgan grimaced at the thought of how slow it would go.

"Alright," James rubbed a hand over his buzzed haircut, "I guess we'll just start with the basics." He straddled the broom and then gestured behind him. "Get on."

Morgan paused, "You know, now that I think about it, wearing a skirt probably isn't a good idea…" She pulled out her wand a summoned a pair of black trousers, much like the ones she wore on her late detention nights.

She kicked off her shoes and began pull the slacks up, sliding them under her skirt. James, who had been watching, blushed, the skin of his neck turning a light pink color. "Uh, if you needed to change, you could have just gone in there…" he trailed off and pointed towards the Quidditch locker rooms.

Morgan's mouth popped open in a small 'o', she just kept forgetting how much more conservative the times were. "Sorry!" she stammered out, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

James gripped the broom tighter in his hands, his skin still a light pink shade. "Right, well then, hop on."

Morgan jumped on the broom, straddling it right behind James. She wrapped her arms around his waist and locked her wrists together. "Ready for take off," she chuckled.

James gave a single nod before kicking off the ground. The old broom effortlessly held their weight as the older Gryffindor took to the skies higher and higher. The wind whiplash was nothing compared to what Morgan was used to in her own time, but for James' sake, she pretended to be overwhelmed for a couple of seconds.

"Wow, this is amazing." The words came out as a mumble in the folds of James' robes.

"Best part of being a wizard," James agreed. "You wanna see some tricks?"

"Show me what you got, Gryffindor."

James tilted to the left, pulling the broom into a sliding roll. The world around Morgan spun as she pulled herself tighter to her companion. "C'mon, that was nothing!"

James laughed, "Alright, I won't go easy on you." He started into a series of flips, twists, and dives; testing Morgan's limits as a passenger on the broom.

Finally, when Morgan thought the muscles in her arms would fall right off, she yelled into James' ear to take them down.

A few moments later she was safely on the ground, dismounting from the broom easily. "That was awesome. Can I try riding by myself?"

James looked a bit uncertain, "I'm not sure, that was your first time on a broom right?"

"I'm sure I could handle it," Morgan gave him her customary grin; the one that she knew was the most persuasive. "Please."

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this," James muttered, "But fine. Just don't kill yourself."

Morgan rolled her eyes, as if it would even be possible for her to kill herself on a broom that slow. "Great." She pulled the broom from her friend's grip and mounted it like a pro.

A moment later, after giving James a thumbs-up, she kicked off the ground. The wind rushed up to meet her, and she gave a laugh of delight. She hadn't felt so free since scoring against the Slytherins when she was a fifth year.

She pulled the broom into a quick circle, her dark hair rushing out behind her as she made a sharp turn. The sun was still up, though she could tell it would be setting soon. Unfortunately, she knew opportunities like this wouldn't come too often.

Rearing the broom back towards James, she rolled forward into a dive, pulling up twenty feet from the ground. She heard the Gryffindor's protests, but ignored them. She clenched her muscles in preparation for flip. Leaning backwards, she felt the world tilt and respond to her movements.

She laughed happily. "James, this is the best!"

"Come down now, Leah, you're scaring the hell out of me!"

"Oh alright," Morgan grumbled. "One more trick."

She leaned towards the right, tumbling into a sharp right roll. Halfway through the dive, though, the muscles all along her back and arms shuddered in uncontrollable spasms. She sucked in a large breath, attempting to pull out of the dive and keep her hands on the broom, but it was useless. The pain was too much.

With a final jerk, her hands came free from the broom and she fell towards the left. Morgan closed her eyes, preparing her body for the impact that would most certainly break a few bones. She wasn't that high up, twenty-five feet at most, but she wasn't going to leave the pitch unscathed.

But the impact never came.

Instead, she heard a quick spell being shouted before she fell into something soft. Peeking out of one eye, she realized James had caught her.

Morgan smiled sheepishly, "Huh, fancy seeing you here, James…"

James glared at her, "I swear to god, you are going to kill me! What happened up there?"

"What happened up there?" Morgan repeated, "What happened down here? I should be a stain on the turf by now."

James groaned, "Don't remind me. I slowed your fall with a damn spell!"

It was then that Morgan saw the wand peeking out of James' fist, the one that was wrapped around her side tightly.

"Oh," she blinked, "Is the broom okay?"

"You have got to be kidding me," James sighed exasperated.

And then, he kissed her.

Well, tried to, anyways. As soon as Morgan saw him lean forward, she turned her head sharply to the right. James lips collided gently with her soft cheek, lingering there for a several long moments, moments that felt like years.

She couldn't do it. Not when her lips still felt the raw burning of Tom's. Not when she knew that her departure from this time was inevitable.

James tightened his hold on her, letting out a long breath and letting his head slide down so it rested in her hair.

Morgan was both shocked and terrified when she opened her mouth to speak and found that her voice failed her. This wasn't right; this wasn't how anything was supposed to happen.

"James," her voice cracked. "I'm sorry, I can't do it. Not right now."

He lifted his head away from her and scowled, "Why?" He demanded, his voice filled with rejection. "Why not now?"

"Please," Morgan licked her suddenly dry lips, "You have to understand that…" she hesitated.

"What, what is it? Is it because I'm not a Pureblood?"

Morgan's eyes widened, appalled, "Put me down. Now." Her voice was deadly serious, something that was very rare.

"Leah…"

Morgan sighed when she heard the desperation in his voice. She gently reached her hands forward and cupped his face, all the while marveling at how the hell he was still able to hold her up. "You know that blood has nothing to do with it."

"Then why not?" the anger was back in his voice, along with frustration. "I just don't understand."

"I hate to interrupt."

Morgan instantly recognized the voice, "Not now," she pleaded to the sky.

"But I suggest you just take the Leah's rejection, Darley, and start walking to Dumbledore's office."

James swore loudly before turning around, eyeing Tom Riddle with annoyance. "I suggest you stay out of this, Riddle."

Tom stared back at James impassively, "Sexual harassment is a very serious offense at Hogwarts, and if you don't want me mentioning it to the Headmaster, then you'll do well to listen to me."

"Shut up Tom!" Morgan snapped, "It's nothing like that!"

But James was already putting her down on the ground and trying to take threatening steps to the Prefect. Morgan jumped in front of him and pushed him backwards, it only took a few moments, however, for another spasm to wrack through her arms. They fell down to her side idly, giving a few small twitches.

Tom raised an eyebrow in interest while James gently grabbed her arms, "Is that what happened, Leah, when you were flying?"

Morgan snatched her arms from his grip, "Don't worry," she stressed, "It's nothing."

His face fell before he looked back over her shoulder at Tom, "What do you want?"

"I told you, Dumbledore wants to see you. It's against the rules to go flying on the pitch without a teacher's permission, even worse to let an untrained student fly a broom without the proper supervision."

"Don't be ridiculous, Tom," Morgan stood in front of James protectively, "It was my idea, I'll go talk to Slughorn about it."

"Perhaps later," Riddle smiled thinly, "But right now I'd like to take you to the Hospital Wing to check you out. You fell far."

"She's fine," James growled, "I took care of her just fine."

"Trying to kiss her isn't the same as trying to take care of her."

"Just stop it, Tom, please," Morgan pleaded with the Heir of Slytherin, desperately trying to keep her hold on James.

Tom shrugged almost indiscernibly, "I'm merely pointing out the flaws in his argument." Thankfully, though, he didn't further comment on the situation.

Morgan turned around so that she was facing James, whose eyes were darkened with rage. She reached up and yanked the front of his shirt down, so that he was eyelevel with her. "Listen to me, James," she said slowly. "Don't do or say anything stupid, okay? Just go to Dumbledore and we can talk later…about everything. Okay?"

"Everything," he solidified. "I'll hold you to that." He paused for a long time, "I'm sorry, I just…can't…well, I'll tell you later." He actually smiled then, his green eyes lighting up before he leaned down and defiantly brushed his lips against her cheek again.

He stalked towards the Quidditch Pitch exit, taking extra care to smash his shoulder into Tom's as he passed.

Tom had a look of pure annoyance on his face, something that Morgan couldn't ever remember seeing before.

In response, Morgan just stared back blankly at him.

It was silent for several, long, minutes.

"It appears you need a lesson in manners," Tom mused, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't count the amount of times I've deserved your thanks."

Morgan gaped at him, "What are you talking about? You don't deserve anything, save for a slap to the face."

Tom frowned, "That Gryffindor was pushing himself on you."

Morgan threw her hands in the air, "No! He wasn't. I like James. You want to know the reason why I can't kiss him?" She stomped towards Riddle and poked him swiftly in the chest. "Because I can't bear the thought of kissing anyone after what you did to me, thinking about it makes me sick."

"Is that what you've been telling yourself?" Tom grabbed Morgan's hand and pushed it back down to her side.

Morgan made a sound of anger deep in her throat before pulling back her fist.

"I don't think so, Leah." Tom turned his back on her, "Now, if you're done being a whiny child, I have a lot of things to talk to you about."

---

The two made their way back to the Room of Requirement, with Tom leading the way. Morgan kept her mouth firmly shut, thinking that even if she wanted to talk, she couldn't be able to find any words to express her thoughts.

It was confusing. Terribly so.

When she signed up to go on Dumbledore's secret mission she figured she'd have to deal with an angst-ridden-woe-is-me Tom Riddle coupled with danger beyond comprehension. What she didn't think she'd have to deal with is something as taboo as teenage love. Eck.

"Are you coming?" Tom stood in front of her, holding open the door to the Room of Requirement. Taking extra care not to touch him, she sidled in through the opening.

"I don't understand, I thought you were going to take me to the Hospital Wing." Morgan ventured the thought out hopefully, her feet leading her towards one of the black couches in the room.

"I can heal you better than any Mediwitch," Tom assured her seriously.

"Hmm," Morgan held her hands out in front of her, watching with wide and curious eyes as they twitched slightly.

The Heir of Slytherin kneeled before her, his eyes locked on her clothed arms, "That is very interesting, Leah."

"Tell me about it."

Tom pulled out his wand before gripping both of Morgan's hands in his free one. "Alright, let me see…" his eyes lost focus for a minute before he tapped his wand against her twitching arms.

A cooling green vapor poured out of his wand and snaked up her arms. The tickling substance sank into her arms, and soon the twitching died out.

"Hmm," Morgan flexed her arms. "What was wrong with them?"

Tom stood up silently, "You wore your muscles out. Too much strenuous activity and your muscles can become inflamed, leading to spasms."

"It's never happened before," Morgan grumbled. "Too much strenuous activity, my ass."

She let her eyes wander around the room Tom conjured up. The walls were a light golden color and a long bookshelf ran along the perimeter walls. The room itself was square in shape, with a large bed tucked into the left corner of it. A fire place rested before her couch, sizzling with newly lit embers. An arm chair lay just to the left of her, and that was where Tom finally sat down.

Morgan allowed herself to leisurely stretch out on the black leather. "So how'd it go with Marston?"

An unintelligible noise came from Tom's direction, and Morgan realized he had buried his face in his hands. "It was…unpleasant."

"Oh, I bet she cried, did she cry?"

"You seem far too excited to hear about this."

"Well, she did try to Obliviate me. Oh, and not to mention the fact that she's a poisonous bitch on the inside, underneath all that fake glitzy 'I'm-so-pretty-and-innocent' spiel."

"I wonder what terms of endearment she would use to describe you now."

"You mean 'I wonder what terms of endearment she would use to describe you if she remembered you knocked her out with a dictionary', right?"

"No. She thinks you are the reason I broke up with her. And in a way, that is the truth. Isabella hates you, I would assume." Tom's head lolled back to the ceiling and he let out a tired sigh.

It was weird, Morgan mused, seeing him showing weakness.

"Well that's just great. Lucretia's probably going to put mercury in my food or something."

"Why in the world would she do that?" Tom asked dully.

"Because it's poisonous," Morgan explained.

"You don't say."

"You look really tired."

"I am really tired."

"Well maybe if someone hadn't been trying to rip their soul in half…I'm not pointing any fingers or anything…"

"Leah," Tom interrupted. "Shut up and let me sleep."

A noise of surprise escaped Morgan's throat. "Sleep? You brought me back here so you could sleep?"

Tom opened one eye and glanced at her with it, "Yes."

"Jesus Christ! Why not let me, oh I don't know, get on with my life! I can think of a million things I would rather do than watch you sleep." Morgan huffed out indignantly.

"I never said you had to watch me sleep," Tom corrected her; "You can sleep too, if you want."

"And what is the point of this?!"

"The point is, Leah, that when I wake up, you will be right here in this room. So I won't have to go looking for you to ask you the hundreds of questions that I need answered. I'll even give you the bed."

"Ew, stop being generous, it's scary." Morgan ground out around her gritted teeth. "Besides, I can't sleep; I have to go to detention…"

"Taken care of," Tom said. Morgan heard a slight rustling and knew that he was standing up. "In light of your recent accident, the Headmaster has allowed you take the night off in order to get some well deserved rest."

"Why do things always work out so perfectly for you?" Morgan demanded.

"You don't want to know the answer to that question." Tom stopped before her couch, "Now go to sleep, in the bed, so I can have the couch."

"Why not conjure up another bed?"

"You want to do that, go ahead, but right now I just don't care." He sighed before pulling out his wand a swishing it to the left. Morgan felt her body tumble off of the couch.

"Ouch, okay, okay, I'm going." She held up her hands in surrender and walked towards the big bed. "Man, you sure are cranky when you're tired."

Morgan didn't get a response.