A/N: This is the longest chapter I have ever written. I just wrote it all tonight, too, on freaking New Years. Please excuse me while I try and go search for an actual life. Anyways, thanks to all those who reviewed, it really made my day. Especially to Shingie--they actually wrote me like six reviews, KUDOS, you are quite the trooper. Next chapter coming out soon. Thanks again to anyone who faved/alerted.

Chapter Seventeen: An Ungodly Long Chapter

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Morgan shifted her eyes away from the floor to look up at Tom. Sighing, she crossed her legs and balanced her elbow on her knee. When she rested her face on her open palm seconds later, she sighed loudly.

"You've never been one to sulk. So just get it over with and tell me what's bothering you."

Morgan puckered her lips, "I'm just wondering why you have to be so good at this."

Tom Riddle replaced one of the many scraps of parchment back on the table. He angled his body towards her and cocked his head to the side. "What?"

Morgan glared at the fireplace. "I'm just wondering why you're so good at making me feel so goddamn confused. Right now I wouldn't be able to tell you what's up and what's down." Her shaky finger began combing through the carpet fibers. "You're pretty good at making me feel bad too, "she paused, "Oh and angry, but I suspect you already knew that one."

Tom caught on quickly and shrugged, "I was merely stating the facts: your actions make it quite obvious you harbor feelings for me."

Morgan blushed furiously. "You can't treat people's feelings like facts, Tom!"

"And why not?"

"Because feelings aren't facts! They aren't set in stone; they're always changing. Fuck, this is what I mean; you're making me all confused again, and I still haven't decided whether or not you're purposely making me think there's something going on between us."

"Going on between us?" Tom blinked stupidly, "Your feelings are entirely one-sided, I assure you."

Morgan blushed again, though this time it was out of a dejected embarrassment. Shit, why was she even feeling rejected? Up until fifteen minutes ago she hadn't doubted that she hated Tom, and now she was considering the fact that she actually liked him. This had to be some kind of trick.

"Are you actually…mad?" Tom's pale lips parted in surprise and perhaps a little bit of pleasure. "You're angry that I don't return your feelings?"

"Agh!" Morgan covered her ears with her hands, "Stop talking about feelings! La la la la, I can't fucking hear you."

There was a moment of silence, and then Tom actually laughed.

"It's not funny! Shut up! Besides, I don't have feelings for you," she wrinkled her nose, as if the word made her physically sick, "It's just that you're incredibly good looking. It's the hormones. You would react the same way if you were in the same position."

Tom snorted, "Hardly, Leah."

Morgan jumped to her feet, outraged, "Yeah, okay, I know you're some sort of all time powerful wizard, but you're still a guy!"

"And?"

"And that means if some extremely attractive girl went around invading your personal space, touching you all up and down your sides, and freaking biting your ear, then you would have the same reaction. It's only natural." Morgan placed her hands on her hips, staring the dark haired Slytherin down.

"Well, seeing as there is no extremely attractive girl here to test that theory, I'll have to take your word for it." Tom leaned back on the couch, gauging her reaction and apparently finished with whatever he had been looking at.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I hate you now," Morgan flopped down in the armchair, "Have you ever even liked a girl before?"

"No, not particularly."

"What about a guy?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Tom scowled, a slight pink tinting his cheeks.

"Hey, I'm not one to judge."

"Shut up, Leah."

"Fine, fine, ever taken one on a date, a girl I mean?"

"Yes, but you already knew the answer to that."

"Fine," Morgan huffed, "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

Tom smirked, "I think you know the answer to that one, too."

Morgan glared, thinking about the time Tom had forced himself on her. "I hope you haven't kissed any other girls like that. The taste of blood isn't exactly appetizing."

"You didn't seem to mind it too much," Tom replied lazily, having gained back his confident demeanor.

"What! That was disgusting!" Morgan swiped the back of her wrist across her mouth at the memory. "Ew."

"Such an action wouldn't have been necessary if you would have stopped fighting me."

"Naw, I think it's more than that. You were getting into it."

"No, you were just being difficult."

It was infuriating the way he kept his tone completely calm and under control while she was on the verge of shouting.

When she told him this, he shrugged.

"It appears we are always returning the favor to one another," he mused, "Though I am learning to enjoy your company now instead of loath it—hence the reason for requesting you to come meet me tonight."

"I'm here…right now…because you wanted my company?" The words sputtered out of Morgan's mouth. "Gah!" She threw her hands in the air. "Do you know how many more important things I could be doing now?"

"Entertaining Darley is hardly important," Tom replied back, stiffly.

"You!" she shook a thin finger at him, "You…you are an asshole! ASS-HOLE!"

Tom smirked, "That's not very nice. Watch your language."

"Fuck you! I do not spend my time entertaining Darley!"

"The evidence is written all over your neck," Tom pointed out, "For the entire world to see…unfortunately."

"You know what, I give up, I really do. I'm not going to let myself be bothered by your immaturity anymore."

"Me? Immature? This coming from the person that jumped on my back in the library?"

"And attacked you in a lone dark corridor."

"Straddled would be the better word," Tom corrected Morgan, much to her displeasure. Right before she could object to the term, Tom intervened, "It doesn't matter," he said sternly. "There's another reason why you're here, besides for stroking my ego."

"Oh ha, ha, we have a funny guy on our hands," Morgan muttered.

Tom leaned forward, placing his hands on the wooden coffee table before him. "It's about the Founders Necklace. I know where it is."

"Hmm, you don't say," Morgan tried not to grimace.

Tom smirked a bit, "If I recall correctly, the Founders Necklace was the reason you went scouring through the Chamber of Secrets in the first place, but how much do you really know about it?"

Now that Morgan thought about it, she really didn't know much about the necklace, besides the fact that she was supposed to keep it away from Tom.

"Uh, it's pretty."

"Pretty?" Tom grinned, "You are quite amusing sometimes." He stood up from the couch and loosened his tie. "We know it was made by the four founders, however, not much else. Its power and the way it can be harnessed remains to be seen. I have some strong suspicions, though." He was pacing now.

"You think it will grant you immortality." Morgan filled in the blanks, dully.

Tom glared at her, displeased by her response for some reason. "Yes," he ground out.

"Huh." Morgan paused, wondering what the whole appeal to immortality was. She figured in the end, only someone who feared death would seek it. Was Tom afraid of death? "Tom, can I ask you a question?"

Tom was leaning near the fireplace. The flickering flames cast shadows on his face, making his high cheek bones more prominent in the light. He looked gorgeous. He eyed her curiously, "Yes?"

"Eh, never mind," there was a high probability the question would anger him, and that was definitely not a good thing. "You know where the necklace is?" she asked instead.

Tom sighed, "I do. Grindelwald is searching for the artifact too. I'm not sure how close he is to finding it. Such a shame that we will have to wait so long to act; Christmas break is a long way off, nearly a month. What an inconvenience."

"Were going to get the necklace during Christmas? At least we have time to plan."

Tom rolled his eyes, "Correct. But we don't need time to plan, I already have a plan."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me it."

"No, not yet at least," Tom rolled up his sleeves before crossing his arms. He returned to the couch and trailed a hand over the papers gathered there. "There's only one thing I can't seem to figure out." He was talking to himself.

Morgan pushed herself further into her chair, suddenly feeling very tired. The spasms in her hands were dulling down, at least. Only occasionally would she catch her fingers twitching. She was dying faster than she thought.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that Riddle was talking to her again, but that was suddenly inconsequential. The impending darkness stole away all of her attention, and moments later she was asleep.

---

When Morgan awoke an hour and a half before breakfast the next morning, she was slightly surprised to find herself resting in a bed. What she wasn't surprised to discover was Tom's absence from the Room of Requirement.

She got up and stretched, wincing at the burning feeling dancing throughout her arms and shoulders. After glancing around the room, she found all of the papers Tom had been looking at last night gone. It was like he had never even been there.

Ah well, she had been hoping to get a peek at some of those important pieces of parchment. She supposed worse things in the world had happened, though, and resolved to find more about the necklace's location later.

Having Tom include her in his plans was kind of bitter sweet. On one hand, Riddle was definitely more than ten steps ahead of her: he knew things that she hadn't even begun to discover, and now he was sharing them. On the other, her overall objective would be harder to obtain with her enemy breathing down her neck.

The word enemy echoed in her head. Was he really her enemy still? He should be. But was he?

"This kind of thinking is deserving of some sugar," Morgan mumbled to herself before slipping out of the room and towards the dungeons. She still had plenty of time to shower and change. After she did that, she would grab some candy.

---

"So it's finally happened, eh?"

"I believe it has, Mr. Potter, our dear snake—"

"—has won the heart of Scarface. How—"

"—romantic," Kayden finished, slapping his arm on Morgan's shoulder. "But of course we knew it would happen."

"Too true, mate," Charlus grinned, "Ever since you sent those birds after him, we knew it."

"Ah, young love!" Kayden steered her away from the Great Hall entrance and towards the Gryffindor table.

"Who said anything about love," Morgan scowled, taking quick glances around the room, "And keep it down, would you? I don't want to give the Slytherins another reason to bash my head in."

"Oh cheer up," Potter chortled, "Christmas is almost here!" He fell back behind her and pushed down on her shoulders, forcing her onto the breakfast bench.

Morgan was about to retort when James arrived. "Leave my girl alone," he joked, sliding into the free seat beside her and throwing an arm over her shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently.

Morgan forced a smile on her face, but being with James after her conversation with Tom was almost impossible. "Yeah, leave me alone, you bum-rags."

"Your girl is quite charming," Potter said, piling his plate with any type of food containing grease.

"At least he has a girl," Kayden chirped.

James snorted, but otherwise ignored the both of them. "You want anything, Leah?" He had already finished getting his own plate together, and his hand hovered over the fruit bowl, looking at her questioningly.

For some reason, the action hit her hard. He really didn't know her, did he? She hated fruit. Despised it, actually. But then again, whose fault was that. Her own, obviously. How was he supposed to get to know her if she refused to volunteer any information about herself? How could she, though, when the existence of Leah Hume was one based upon lies?

She bit her lip and fiddled with her fingers under the table, "No thanks," she said after awhile. "Not hungry." She stood up suddenly, "I think I'm going to head to double Potions early, I'll see you all later."

Morgan tried to ignore James' hurt gaze as she strolled away, her hands stuck in her pockets. But after taking a quick detour by the kitchens and picking up some Red Vines, James and his feelings were rather easy to forget.

She was just beginning to chew on her fourth string of licorice, her eyes sliding over the dungeon stones but not really seeing them, when a pair of hands extended from the shadows and pulled her backwards. Morgan was pretty sure she heard the slamming of a door behind her, and then she was shoved up against a wall.

"Easy there, I bruise easily," she muttered around her candy, straining her eyes to adjust to the darkness. They had to be in a broom closet or something, because a mop was digging into her back.

"Shut up, whore."

"Those are fighting words, my friend," Morgan said apathetically. Someone was in front of her, lifting her up by the front of her robes.

"Friend?" a voice exclaimed from her left, "What a ridiculous notion. Friends of Slytherin don't fraternize with Mudbloods, Gryffindor Mudbloods no less."

Morgan spat in the face of her attacker. "Suck on that, you tosser."

Morgan wasn't sure if the guy holding her up called her a bitch, or if it was someone else on her right, because at the same moment she was slammed back into the wall. Her head knocked against the stone, and it took a moment to regain her bearings.

She was, however, very much so aware of the wand digging into her neck. "I'll just curse her right now and be done with it."

"Don't," the guy on her right hissed, "She isn't worth it."

"You're right," the one in front of her snarled, "I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole."

Morgan scrunched her face up, "You're touching me right now," she pointed out with little confusion.

Someone slapped her. Whoever it was wore a big ring and had a mean backhand. Her head was mashed against the wall…again, and she bit down on her lip harshly in surprise. It started bleeding.

"You slap like a girl," Morgan slurred, trying to goad her attackers further. It was utterly dark inside the closet, so she really had no idea who it was assaulting her. Perhaps if she kept them talking she would be able to recognize their voices.

Instead of getting angry, however, the guy with the ring started laughing. "Oh, I may slap like a girl, but I'm certainly not one." Morgan winced when she felt the guy running his hand up her leg, gradually going higher and higher until her skirt started hiking up. "You like that?" He whispered huskily in her ear.

"Erm, no, not particularly, sorry chap. If you're trying to seduce me, you're doing a right awful job."

Another few choice curses were thrown her way, and the hand on her leg darted up to strike her face once more. Oh, the guy was definitely wearing a big ring, one with a lot of sharp points.

"Who would want you, anyways," the guy snarled, "You're so bony, and your mouth is way too big." He pushed himself flush against her, forcefully spreading her legs with his free hands. Morgan grappled with the front lapels of his robes, trying to push him away. "But maybe if we had more time I could get over that," he seemed pleased by her slightly more fearful reaction.

She heard laughter coming from both her left and right. Perhaps a different approach needed to be taken.

Instead of pushing her attacker away, Morgan pulled him closer and rammed her head into his. He pushed her away with a hiss.

"Woah…" the darkness swam in front of her, "Head rush."

"You're a dead woman," the same thick voice that had tried seducing her seconds before was now drawn with rage.

One of the man's giggling lackeys stopped him from doing whatever it was he was planning to, luckily, and whispered, "We need to get out of here. Classes are about to start."

"Right," there was the sound of a door opening and shutting, and then nothing.

"Tuesday mornings suck," Morgan grumbled, tentatively touching her face. "Ouch." She reached into her pocket and pulled out another licorice stick, sighing in relief when she tasted the familiar sugar.

Morgan took only a few more seconds to compose herself before shuffling out of the closet. Due to her already weakening body, the hits she received during the assault left her more shaken than usual.

Getting bullied was something she was used to, though, so she didn't give it another thought. She needed to get to Potions, before the bell tolled, too.

Thankfully, the closet she had been pulled into was rather close to her classroom. She made it just as the bell rung. Unfortunately, everyone else in the class was already seated by the time she entered, and turned to watch her approach.

Kayden squirmed in his seat, gaping at her, "Blimey," he breathed.

"My dear," Slughorn cawed, "What happened to your face?"

Morgan ignored the stares she received and settled herself next to Violetta. "Fell down the stairs," she grunted, not even bothering to make the lie more convincing. "I'm very clumsy, you see."

"Try to be more careful, won't you?" Slughorn chortled. He turned his attention back to the rest of the class. "Now, today I have a very special potion we will be working with: Amortentia. It's the strongest love potion known in the world."

The burly professor approached a table in the middle of the room. A black pot sat on it, whose cover was peeled back. A pearly sheen rose from the cauldrons' depths in spirals. "The potion will smell differently to each person, depending on what they are attracted to. Now it's important to know that this potion cannot create love—that is impossible, it merely causes infatuation and obsession, both very dangerous things. Would you all like to have a sniff?"

Most of the girls in the room let out dreamy sighs, gazing at the potion with longing. Morgan turned her eyes away from the cauldron to glance at Tom. He wasn't facing her, but she could make out the tight tendon in his jaw. He was angry.

"What a joke," Morgan muttered. She peeked at Violetta from the corner of her eye, remembering that they parted on undesirable terms yesterday.

The blond witch sighed, "I wholeheartedly agree. And yes, Leah, I forgive you. It seems as if you have enough to worry about, and there's no need to put unnecessary strain on our friendship."

"Merlin, you're perceptive," Morgan grinned, wincing in pain when her sore skin stretched. "Sorry for being a bitch."

"There's nothing to apologize for, besides your poor language," Fanding replied, pushing away from the desk. A line had begun forming in front of the love potion sample.

"Right, now let's all lean over, take a sniff, and tell the rest of the class what you smell," Slughorn beamed as an eager Ravenclaw practically tossed herself in the cauldron.

For a moment the girl closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The potion turned a bright yellow color and she smiled, "Smells like pine," she whispered, a giggle fighting its way from her throat. She peeked shyly at Kayden.

Morgan watched with disinterest as the three other girls in the class stepped forward. Only when it was Kayden's turn did she actually pay attention. His stuck his neck out swiftly, taking one short breath before pulling back. "Smells like some flower or something," he mumbled dismissively.

Morgan saw the Ravenclaw girl ask her friend to sniff her hair. "Does it smell like a flower?" she demanded softly.

Violetta chuckled. She was up. It only took her seconds to announce the potion smelled like the Quidditch pitch. Morgan guessed she really did care about Braxton. Weird.

Then it was Morgan's turn. She leaned over the cauldron for a few seconds, her dark hair nearly spilling into the potion. It turned a dark green color, so dark it almost seemed black. After several moments she pulled away from the pot, her skin a sickly pale color. "Uhm, it, uh, smelled crisp, like a morning after it snows, and, uh, good cologne," her eyes darted from the floor to the ceiling in quick succession.

She shuffled back to the other side of the room then, sitting down in one of the free chairs and putting her face in her hands. Violetta came to sit by her, and rubbed her shoulder in a rare display of concern. "Are you…okay?"

Morgan's eyes flitted upwards, "Erm, no, I'm feeling kind of woozy, must've been from my tumble down the stairs."

"Maybe you should go to the infirmary."

"No." Morgan watched as Tom approached the cauldron. The potion turned a cold blue color. As he walked away from the table, she found all traces of his anger had vanished; he appeared bored more than anything else.

"Some type of citrus, with something floral mixed in, sir," he said, offhandedly. A few of the girls in the class began whispering heatedly, letting out sharp giggles every once and awhile.

"Leah, you really don't look good," Violetta reiterated.

"Don't worry about it, Fanding," Morgan said, leaning back in her chair. "It will pass in a few moments." She rubbed her sore head and silently pondered what she had smelled in the potion. True, there had been hints of cologne and snow, but she had recognized another smell as well.

Death.

"Right class, very good, now before we go on to make this very special potion I would like to remind you all about my Christmas party. It's on December the 18 from seven to eleven. Please do bring a date," Slughorn smiled and clapped his hands together in excitement. "Only Slug Club members, though, please."

Morgan bit back a groan.

"The winter Hogsmeade trip is coming up this Saturday, so if you find yourself in dire need of formal wear, that would be the time to get it. I hope to see you there!"

"What a bore," Morgan grumbled, slouching in her desk and blowing away some stray pieces of hair in her face. Thankfully, the bout of dizziness was passing. "You going to go?"

"Yes, I do believe Braxton will enjoy another opportunity to flaunt his good looks." Fanding pulled out her Potions text book, her eyes on the chalk board. Slughorn had begun writing down their assignment. "Who will you bring?"

For some reason, Morgan chanced a glance at Tom. He was sitting next to Avery, idling flicking through his own Potions book. She briefly wondered why he had seemed so angry at the beginning of class.

"I don't know," Morgan answered truthfully. "Probably James. I mean, he'll expect me to invite him anyways."

"You do not seem too excited about it."

"The party? Of course not, I hate parties."

"No, about dating James," Violetta clarified. "You shouldn't pursue a relationship with someone if you are unhappy in it. Especially now, when there's a high chance James will ask you to marry him."

"Meh," Morgan started pulling out their shared cauldron and measuring utensils, mulling over Fanding's words. Tom had said the same thing. "I dunno," she said, "It's only been a day, so I guess I'll just have to see how it goes."

"Yes, it's only been a day and you're already getting beaten up over it."

"A mild inconvenience."

"No, a dangerous one," Violetta sighed, "Just be careful."

When Morgan declared careful was her middle name, Fanding shook her head. "No," she had said, "Reckless is."

---

"I wonder, what happened to your face?" Tom asked, leaning against a small doorway leading into the entrance hall.

"You wonder about a lot of things," Morgan responded, shifting her body so that she was turned slightly towards him and slightly away from him. The hall was filled with students third year and up, all gathered to wait for the Hogsmeade carriages. James was waiting somewhere in the fray and she winced at the thought.

She had originally begun the week off with optimistic thoughts about her relationship with him; unfortunately, she found she was better suited for being a pessimist.

It wasn't that James did anything wrong, per say…it was just that…well…she glanced at Tom again.

"Yes, I do," he said, "And you hide a lot of things from me."

"I was under the impression you preferred things this way."

"At times," Tom admitted, "Other times the truth makes for a better story than a lie."

"Fine," she took a few quick steps into the shadows and started down the stairs towards the dungeons. She stopped halfway down the staircase, "It's more private down here."

"Decidedly so," the Slytherin heir agreed. He waited a step above her to hear the story.

Morgan frowned at the blatant display of superiority, but relayed to him the details of her attacking regardless. "He was wearing a big ring," she concluded minutes later. "A really big ring."

Tom smirked, "I can see that," he mumbled. He reached forward and touched her tender cheek. "I daresay that the emblem was imprinted on your skin."

Morgan shrugged, batting his hand away with an impatient movement. "Aw well, it's getting better." And it was. The skin had turned a slight yellow color. It was ugly, but a sign that some healing process was taking place.

"Why didn't you get someone to heal it? Or go to the Hospital Wing for that matter?"

"It's just a bruise!" Morgan exclaimed, "You have no idea how long James bothered me about it."

Tom frowned at the mention of her date, but said nothing more. He began to start up the stairs, believing the conversation to be over.

Morgan reached out an arm and grabbed onto the corner of his jacket. He paused and turned to her curiously. "Yes?"

"Erm, long time no see," Morgan said tactlessly, before scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

"Leah, I saw you yesterday afternoon in Ancient Runes. I hardly call that a long time." Tom crossed his arms, "What do you want?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something, actually," Morgan shot back. When she received confirmation that Tom was listening she went on. "Why were you angry in Potions on Tuesday?"

Tom's eyes widened in marginal surprise, "Why do you think I was angry?"

"You were clenching your jaw." Morgan mimicked his stance, "So I was curious as to why something as simple as a love potion would make you upset."

"I was not upset."

Morgan raised her eyebrow. That proved it. His voice had darkened when he answered her. Something had bothered him. "Now who's the one lying?"

"Well then, if I tell you why I was angry will you tell me why you lied about what the potion smelled like to you?"

His lips pulled upwards when he noticed Morgan's dumbfounded expression. "How did you know?"

"You've been lying to me since we met, Leah, I find it fairly easy now to determine when you are being truthful. So, do we have a deal?"

"Fine," Morgan growled, "I smelled something I didn't like, okay? Your turn."

"I was reminded of something I didn't like," Tom responded, just as easily. "There, are we done now?"

"I suppose so."

"Good. Oh, and one more thing. I need the room tonight, so you'll have to sleep in the dorms for once."

Morgan furrowed her brows. Tom hadn't met her in the Room of Requirement since Monday, nor had he bothered her about it. What could he being doing? When she asked him, he didn't respond, and instead left her on the stairs.

Fine, she thought darkly, what did she care anyways? He could do whatever he wanted. She would just go and spend a lovely day with her lovely date.

She inwardly flinched at that particular thought.

Eh.

---

Morgan trailed next to James, her hand clasped in his as she vainly tried to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

"You are such a child," her date pulled her closer, tucking her into his side. "Thanks for coming with me today."

Morgan tried not to frown. James was being nice, really nice, and so far the date had been going well. They had made light conversation on the way to the village in the carriage, and Darley hadn't pressed for any more physical contact yet.

Morgan just wished that she felt shivers with James, or something else like that. He was such a nice guy, definitely better for her than the other man on her mind. She screwed her face up in concentration; maybe she could force the attraction upon herself…

"Leah, what're you doing?"

"Uh…just wondering why you're thanking me for coming. I mean I thought we were a thing, and it would be pretty obvious that if I was going to take anyone it'd be you…"

James' face split into a wide grin, "You have such an odd way of saying things, but I think it's adorable." He gave her hand an extra tug, "Come on, I have a surprise for you."

Morgan humored him, allowing their pace to quicken as they sped past the snow-sprinkled trees. The chilly November air nipped at her face, but it felt pretty good on her healing bruises. It was only when James dragged her to the owl office that she voiced her confusion.

"It's a surprise," he insisted before lumbering through the post doorway. He shook out his coat, doing his best not to cover Morgan in snow. Once he was deemed appropriately dry, he leaned over the wooden counter in the shop and banged on the bell.

While they waited for the owner to assist them, Morgan drifted her eyes around the building. It looked exactly the same as it did in the future: rickety wooden shelves divided into neat squares and stuffed with mail occupied most of the available space. A set of steps in the back corner led to the upper floor of the building, where Morgan knew hundreds of owls were resting.

"I'm looking for a package."

Morgan turned back to James. He was leaning over the counter, speaking very slowly and enunciating his words to the old lady serving him.

"It's a long box, addressed to a Mr. Darley."

The shortened woman shook her head rapidly, efficiently telling James that no, she knew of no such package. James sighed loudly, "It was picked up from a Muggle woman!"

"Oh!" croaked the lady, the wrinkles around her face tightening as she smiled in realization. "That package. The one in the long box, right?"

James rolled his eyes, turning his head so he could give Morgan an exasperated glance. "Yes, that one."

"Well," the lady huffed, "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" She stormed away from him, towards the back rows of wooden shelves. When she returned minutes later, she was handling a long purple box. A black ribbon rested in the middle of it. "There you go, giant."

James grimaced while Morgan broke out in laughter. "Thank you, ma'am," he tucked the package under one arm and pushed Morgan out the door with the other. In the safety of the falling snow and populated streets he grinned. "This is for you."

The box was thrust into Morgan's hands, and she stared at it for a good few seconds. "Me? Huh. Do I open it?"

James shook his head, "Not yet, I want to go to the gazebo."

Since Morgan had no idea where there was a gazebo in Hogsmeade, she let him lead the way again. She was slightly shocked to find it rested in the same spot the Shrieking Shack did in her time.

The gazebo was octagon in its shape, with a high slopping roof and thick wooden floor boards. A bench ran along the inside perimeter of the shack like structure. James pushed her down so she was sitting and then nodded happily.

"Okay, go."

So she did. Her hands darted to the black silk ribbon, peeling it away with finesse. Next, she cautiously lifted the lid of the box and dug through the opaque tissue paper. Inside, she found a gown.

It was a dark blue that shimmered in the sun, completely made out of silk. It had thin straps and gathered tightly around the torso before loosening out into gentle waves of fabric about the waist. It was plain in the sense that it wasn't adorned with any specific patterns or sprinkled with any jewels, but it didn't need to be— the shimmering material was enough to make the dress absolutely eye catching.

"Fucking hell," Morgan breathed, running her hands along the dress. "Holy fucking hell."

"Do you like it?"

She turned her stunned expression to James, "How in the world…James, I don't understand…"

The six-foot Quidditch player smiled gently, running a finger down Morgan's cheek. "My aunt made it. She owns a rather prominent shop in Scotland. I mentioned a few weeks ago that a young lady was winning over my heart, and that I was sure a Christmas party would be coming up—Slughorn is rather predictable like that—so she insisted that she be allowed to make you something. Charlus and Kayden helped me figure out your size and everything," he blushed at some distinct memory.

Morgan let the dress fall back into the box (though the material was so silky it seemed like she was pouring the gown back in) and grabbed James' hands with her own. "It's beautiful," she whispered sincerely, "The most beautiful thing I have ever seen in the whole entire world."

Somewhere inside her head, a voice was screaming at Morgan to deny the gift. It was too nice, too expensive, and it stood for too many things. She didn't love James like that, so leading him on was just mean…cruel even.

But the dress…it was so beautiful.

Maybe she could grow to love James.

She bit her lip when she remembered she had a time limit, not to mention a mission to complete. No, there would be no time for James; there was barely time for her to live.

"Well, a beautiful dress for a beautiful girl," James blushed, reaching over and extracting the extravagant silk ribbon from the packaging. He jumped from his seat, moving so he could straddle Morgan from behind, and gathered her dark hair in his hand. He deftly tied it back with the long piece of cloth. "There. Now, just to make this official, will you let me escort you to professor Slughorn's Christmas party?"

Oh, she wanted to say no. She really did. But she wasn't like Harry or Hermione, who could so easily sacrifice their wants and desires without a second noble thought. No, she came to the conclusion that she was selfish. She would wear the dress, she would kiss James, and she would continue the relationship. It didn't matter that she wouldn't love him, or that she was probably going to die, or even that she was attracted to someone else.

Man, she was really starting to think like Slytherin.

"Of course," she said finally, letting the air out of her cheeks.

James cupped her face in his hands and was just about to lean in to kiss her when a snowball knocked his head back.

"Damn," he hissed, his mouth near her ear, "Kayden and Charlus can never give us a moment alone, can they?"

Morgan heard a gasp come from the entrance of the gazebo, "You're words wound us so," Potter exclaimed. He spied the opened box sitting near Morgan. "But I see thy fair lady hath finally been given-ith her gown-ith."

Kayden appeared by his friends shoulder, "So it seems." He winked at Morgan, "I had a fun time getting your measurements, by the way."

Morgan tossed them a grin, "Go find yourself a girlfriend, you git!"

"Now, now, you would not have the lovely dress if it were not for me!" Kayden said seriously. He waltzed further into the wooden structure to pull Morgan and James to their feet. "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks and grab a butterbeer."

Looking to Morgan for permission, James agreed, "Yeah, sure, let's go." He gently closed the lid on his aunt's gift and offered Morgan his free hand.

The four students trekked through the fast falling snow, reaching the inn in little time and finding an unoccupied table towards the back. The place was just as crowded as Morgan could remember from her time, and the hazy atmosphere was reminiscent of her younger days spent there.

Charlus opted to go get the drinks, and came back to the table with a pack of four girls. He was absolutely ecstatic.

"Move aside, you barmpot," he scolded James, "And let these lovely ladies take a seat."

Morgan observed it was mostly a sea of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls, thankfully no Slytherins, but their giggling was annoying regardless. She recognized one of the girls from her potions class, who was quick to drag her into a conversation.

"Melody, remember?" she said in a high voice. Her golden locks sat short and curled on her head. She twirled a strand around her finger, "Your hair looks lovely tied back."

Morgan touched the black ribbon and smiled, "Thanks, uh…" she tried digging through the banks of her mind, looking for a topic of conversation.

Melody sensed her struggle, and patted Morgan's hand with one of her own. "It's okay; I just have a small favor to ask."

Seeing as every other occupant at the table was engrossed in their own conversations, Morgan shrugged, "Sure."

"Could you give this to Tom?" Melody asked, holding out a box. "It's homemade muffins, I just made them yesterday afternoon. Could you give them to him for me, as a Christmas present?"

Morgan pointed out that Christmas was a long way off.

"Oh, I know, but I'll be leaving this week. My parents are pulling me out of school for awhile, because of all the bombings in London. I'm a Muggleborn, you see. I won't be back in time for Christmas, but it will be nice to know that he gets my present, anyways."

Morgan genuinely smiled at that, "That sounds lovely," she tucked the box into her coat, resolving to tell Riddle about the cute Hufflepuff. Maybe she smelled like fruit and flowers, maybe he would be attracted to her.

It occurred to Morgan that she was trying to pair Riddle off with someone so he would be unattainable. If he was, then it would be easier to deny her attraction.

Ignorant of Morgan's thoughts, Melody gave her a heartfelt goodbye, accepting the 'good-luck' shouts she received from the rest of the table.

Rubbing a thoughtful palm around her butterbeer glass, Morgan wondered if she should try making more friends. Her social life was pretty limited to James, Charlus, Kayden, and Violetta. Well, there was Tom, but he was a different story. Melody didn't seem that bad, maybe it was high time Morgan started being nice to more people.

Or concentrating more on the mission, a voice said smarmily in her head.

Morgan downed the rest of her drink with a sigh.

---

The sun was setting when Morgan departed from the Three Broomsticks, waving off a concerned James with the assurance that she could make it back to the castle on her own. Seventh year students were given more liberty when it came to curfew, unfortunately that liberty didn't extend to the sixth years.

So with her gift in hand, and Melody's muffins, she grabbed a single carriage and started back. A few younger Ravenclaws shared the ride with her, though she opted to spend it in silence, occasionally twisting the ends of the ribbon in her hair.

When she finally did reach the castle, she speculated over where to store her new dress. She wouldn't dare trust to put it in the dorms. She had a feeling it would have some unexplainable accident should she ever leave it alone.

That really left only one other place.

She headed towards the seventh floor. Tom had told her to stay away from the Room of Requirement, but perhaps he wasn't there yet. And if he was, oh well, it would just be for a quick visit anyway—toss the dress in, hand him his muffins while she was at it, and there. Done. Simple.

Thinking of the baked treats, Morgan pulled one out of its case debated whether or not she should eat it. She had just reasoned that Riddle was probably allergic to anything as girly and good as muffins when she reached the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Popping one of the treats in her mouth (they were chocolate, her absolute favorite), she began pacing back and forth.

'I need a place to rest.'

Morgan paced the wall opposite of the troll picture three times, frowning in confusion when a door didn't appear. So Tom was already in there. Okay. Whatever.

'I need Tom Riddle.'

Upon pacing past the wall three more times, a door appeared. She transferred the boxes she was carrying into one hand (not before stuffing another muffin in her mouth), and pushed the door open.

It was hot and a bit smoky—from what Morgan could tell, Tom must've been brewing a potion. He had altered the room to suit his purpose, and instead of the customary couches she was used to seeing, a large practical work area filled the room's space. She spied three doorways, though, so she figured there had to be a bed in one of them.

She was just taking the next few steps over the threshold when Tom appeared in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Morgan's lips parted in surprise. He looked angry, angrier than she'd ever seen him. His eyes were narrowed and burning, his lips pursed together tightly, and his jaw clenched. She barely had time to try and explain when his hand shot forward and yanked the front of her shirt. He dragged her through the front room, barely giving her time to look around anymore, before shoving her through one of the other doors.

It was a bedroom. A large bed adorned with dark green sheets sat in the middle of the room and a big set of chest drawers sat against one of the walls. Morgan blinked, registering the fact that Tom was pacing in front of her.

"I asked you one thing, to stay out of this bloody room for a day, and what do you do?" His voice was clipped and controlled, but the fury was there.

"Did you really think I would listen?"

She yelped when he suddenly drew his wand and let loose a jet of blue light. Recent years of experience in Dumbledore's Army had her ducking and diving to the right, recovering with her own wand pulled out and ready.

"Are you kidding me?" She snapped, "Cool down for a second."

Tom shot another spell at her.

"God damn it." She jumped forward, tackling the future Dark Lord to the ground and trying to steal his wand away from him. She knew if he had continued shooting spells at her she wouldn't have been able to dodge them for much longer.

Fighting for control on the carpeted floor, Morgan wondered why Tom didn't just hex her off with a bit of wandless magic. But whatever the reason, their Muggle fight continued.

She tried to pin his hands over his head, but he shook free of her grip and elbowed her in the stomach. Thanks to the recently eaten muffins, she doubled over; giving Tom all the time he needed to slide away from her.

He hopped to his feet lithely, as if he hadn't just had a smack-down wrestling match with a girl from the future, and dragged Morgan to her feet by her robes.

"You are insufferable." He hissed, backing her into the wall and holding her there roughly. He paused suddenly, "And your hair's up."

Morgan winced, a strange fuzzy feeling bubbling up in her stomach. At least Tom's tone was more indifferent than angry now. "Yeah, my hair's up," she growled. "You know why? Because the only fucking reason why I came here was to drop off a lovely present that had been decorated with the ribbon in my hair. I wasn't here to spy on any of your secret evil plans."

Tom's eyes glanced back to the discarded boxes, noticing a small slip of blue silk on the floor. He saw the muffins spilled on the ground too.

Morgan followed his gaze, the fuzzy feeling in her stomach practically fizzing now, "Oh yeah, and to give you those muffins. This girl named Melody asked me to give them to you. She's in our Potions class. She has the prettiest golden hair; it cascades down her back like a waterfall. Oh, and her eyes!" Morgan squealed, "They're just the most adorable shade of green I have ever seen."

She sighed, "I could get lost in those eyes. And her voice! It's like honey; I think I love her Tom! I really do!"

Tom Riddle released Morgan, rubbing his temples with one hand. "This girl asked you to give me the muffins?"

"Tom!" Morgan gasped, scandalized, "Her name is Melody! My sweet, sweet Melody."

"Leah, did you eat a muffin?"

"Of course! I had three, because my sweet Melody is a whizz at baking. Oh how I adore her. Do you think she'll come back soon? Do you'll think she'll mind that I'm from—"

She froze, regaining herself for a moment, and clapped a hand over her mouth. She had just been about to say 'from the future'. Thankfully, Tom didn't notice.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" She bit out worriedly.

"Leah," Tom's lips were still pursed together, but this time with the effort of trying to control his laughter. "I do believe this girl spiked the muffins with some brewed Amortentia."

In her mind, Morgan was screaming with uncontrollable anger and shock. But for some reason, her favorite curse words didn't come out of her mouth. Instead, she yelled, "Her name is Melody, Tom, my Melody!"