Hi, guys! I'm sorry for not posting sooner, and I can only offer my sincerest apologies and the lame excuse of homework. For eight months. But now, I feel as though my nonexistent English project can wait, and I've decided to continue the story. So- please comment below, and with that, enjoy my 12:00 A.M. ramblings.

Tom Riddle was not having a good day.

Like always, he woke up earlier than the rest of the Slytherins, put on his robes, and crept out of the dungeons, visiting the Chamber of Secrets to give a little treat to his beloved little pet. She was ravenous, having gone without food for almost twelve hours, poor thing, but when he tried to feed her, she nearly bit off his hand. It took three spells and one rather large bandage to get his fingers to stop swelling.

Afterwards, at breakfast in the Great Hall, a clumsy 1st year accidentally spilled her piping hot tea all over him. The pain was not nearly as annoying as her apologetic screeches, and he had to miss the entirety of both Potions and Charms, meaning double homework since he had to miss most of his classes yesterday, as he was a tad preoccupied with that lovely Lucretia Black in the broom closet. (It really was a shame she was doomed to marry that grotesque Ignatius Prewett and his horrifyingly red hair. She wasn't up to Tom's standards, of course, but he would've thought she would've married someone without the characteristics of a leprechaun).

And now, after an exhausting day, he was trudging through the hallways, making his way past the current of students, all laughing and chattering and hugging as though they hadn't seen each other in years. He elbowed one particularly annoying Hufflepuff out of his way, when something small and hard pushed against his chest, sending him spiraling into a group of Ravenclaw girls and onto his back.

The small and hard thing in question, was a boy right on top of his chest.

He gasped out loud, trying to catch the breath that the other boy had knocked out of his chest. He was vaguely aware of the girls whispering and giggling around him. He looked up to meet a green-eyed stare, peering down into his face with something akin to both curiosity and… hatred?

"Tom, Tom!" Someone cried, and the face of Lucretia Black looked down anxiously from above the green-eyed boy. She roughly pushed the boy off of him, and propped him up on his legs. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Tom said in a low, even voice. The boy that had bumped into him sat on the floor, robes fanning out all around him on the wooden floorboards. His pale face was rough with anger, as if Tom had murdered his entire family or something. He looked very messy, as though he'd put on all his clothing and brushed his untidy black hair in a dark room. Blindfolded.

"It's you." The boy said, breathing heavily, as though he'd just ran a mile. There was no doubt about it- it was hate that was scrunching up his small nose, twisting his chapped lips, darkening his green eyes. He looked as though he would like nothing more than to slice up Tom into a million little bite-sized pieces.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Tom asked, looking down at the boy with disdain in his clear gray eyes. The boy just rubbed his elbow and gave Tom a loathing stare. A professor suddenly appeared at the boy's side, helping him up. Tom growled as Dumbledore's twinkly-eyed smile brightened the room.

"What's happened here?" He asked, almost too cheerfully. Tom crossed his arms and faked a smile.

"Nothing at all, Professor," he said smoothly. "This lovely boy and I were just getting well-acquainted on the floor."

Laughter rose from the small crowd surrounding Tom. The Transfiguration professor kept his serene look, but his grip on the boy's shoulder tightened.

"Come along now, Harry." He said quietly. The boy said nothing more, but gave Tom a deadly look once more before turning around to follow the batty old man away from the crowd. Lucretia took Tom's arm and squeezed it gently.

"That was weird." She murmured. "It seemed like he knew you."

"It did," Tom muttered. "Didn't it?"

And as he probed at his sore elbow, his day had suddenly gone from bad to worse.