Warning: Normal! Tom. This fic is aimed at showing that Tom didn't become the Dark Lord because of pure evil. So if you expect Tom to have not liked any girl until Hermione came along, please do not continue reading.
She was beautiful.
All she did was bump into me, and she was already blushing a delightful shade of red, every aspect of her whispering an apology – her pink little lips, her honey eyes…
She had always been the prettiest one in the lot.
Oh, yes. I was very much attracted to Cassandra Bolarden. I never thought much of her, but my body always responded to her quite enthusiastically whenever I caught a glimpse.
Secret glimpses. I did have more tact than Avery.
It was sort of sad, when you thought about it. I never made time for these thoughts. Maybe I wouldn't be such an introvert, if I did. Then again, I'd be an airhead, if I did.
Not that all pleasant people were airheads. There was Granger, there was Malfoy, there was Brown, there was Bolarden… okay, pretty much every other smart person this school has right now, is pleasant. Even Becka Bulstrode is learning to open up.
Even so, I was sensible enough to not regard these feelings as anything serious.
Bolarden was actually quite talkative. A senior, and fairly smart – they didn't hand over Head Girl badges to just anybody. In fact, it was my own fault for not letting her know me. I was sort of afraid to, actually. I've seen what love does to other people. They learn to trust someone, only to be severely let down. Heck, Avery even cried once in fourth year because Helen Darius let him court her for four months, only before deciding it was a jolly good idea to prance after the Ravenclaw prefect. And then, there was my own mother.
Nevertheless, Bolarden never struck conversation with me. She'd understood that I wanted to avoid people and respected my distance.
Until now, that is. She was standing precisely a foot and a half length away from me.
"I heard the new transfer student actually approached the Gryffindors. Is that true?"
"Weren't you there at dinner?" I asked.
She bit her lip, momentarily distracting me. "Yeah. I just thought she'd have asked Brown for homework or something. Though, she's quite smart as it is. But not as smart as you, Tom," she added shyly.
Screw avoiding girls. I suddenly love my life.
It was funny how the Wizarding world thought of a lot of things, but the working of the mind was not one of them. I might actually have to read a muggle book on hormones. I needed to learn about control.
"I noticed she- Hermione, right? Well, I noticed Hermione always sat next to you at the table. She's your friend, then?" then she added slyly, "Or more?"
I didn't know how to feel about this. On one hand, I was incredibly uncertain about Granger and if the Head Girl herself – as in, the girl who doesn't have to ask for news because she has enough sources to tell her – was asking me, then a large number of people must be suspicious and would approach me all week.
But on the other hand, I'd be getting a good reputation. At some point, I needed more people to back up my cause.
"A friend," I smiled innocently, knowing she'd take one look at my face and conclude otherwise. "Are you going to plan the Autumn Quidditch party idea anytime soon?"
She seemed startled. "You actually remember me having mentioned it?"
"Of course, who wouldn't? Your ideas are very charming."
Her ideas weren't the only thing about her that was charming.
Okay, this has got to stop. Would I really stoop this low? I didn't even know her favourite colour!
And I knew Dumbledore's favourite colour.
(Brown.)
(Don't ask. It took me mighty long to get him drunk.)
She blushed. "Oh, well, I was actually really enthusiastic about it, but then Headmaster Dippet said it wouldn't work because the other teams wouldn't be really nice about the winning team's victory. He sort of has a point."
"I'm sorry to hear about that," I said honestly. "But you could try hosting a special party at the Room of Requirements, and invite everyone. That way, along with the members of the winning House, a few open minded people would turn up, and it would be worth it."
"Really? We could do that?'
What a strange Head Girl we had. "There's no point in asking permission. A rule you could bend, for a little happiness."
For some strange reason, this just initiated a monkey grin. "It'll make them love the idea even more, Tom. Everyone would turn up, if it meant breaking a rule and actually doing something exciting."
A very strange Head Girl.
She paused. "You give great ideas."
I shrugged modestly, and she left with a quick, "Bye!"
LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TY
"So it's true, then?" Christopher Flint asked me on the way to Charms.
"Yes, the sky truly is blue," I said gravely.
"What?"
"Nothing. Joke," I muttered.
Honestly, what was this, Riddles-not-a-creep-because-Granger-sits-next-to-him-Realisation Day?
Huh. That really was a mouthful. I supposed some people were just not meant for humour.
But Flint threw me off. "You really can use the Room of Requirements for parties?"
I was going to jab at his simplicity of thought and confuse him a bit, but then I reflected, this was a rare day. In a week I'd be back to Weirdass Tom again. Might as well make an impression when I had the chance. "Of course. Lord Slytherin himself started the tradition."
Flint grinned like he'd just been admitted to Hogwarts despite being a squib. "Really? Brilliant!"
By the afternoon, Malfoy approached me, bewildered.
"I'm always the last one to find out about your ideas!" he complained. It took me a moment to register he was just amused. "You, the most boring Prefect Hogwarts has ever had the misfortune to see, actually gave the student body an alternative to parties in the Common room. They're going to mingle, Tom! And you're going to appoint watch outs to warn anyone about professors – thoughtful, by the way – "
"Um - "
"And facilitate a safe Hogsmeade trip, when they sneak in the drinks – "
"Wh-"
"And help out with the charms and decorations! The Room doesn't offer much if we have mixed opinions, after all."
"I beg your pardon?"
He stared at me. "You didn't declare all of that, did you?" He groaned. "Merlin, Tom, the one time I actually think you're socializing –"
"I suggested using the Room, though," I added quickly.
"Oh?" He blinked. "You've talked to the Head Girl, then?"
"Yeah."
"You like her, right? This is going just great. I can't believe it, you're going to love this kind of life –"
"Wait, wait, wait. Just slow down, Malfoy." I inhaled deeply. "First of all, it's called an attraction. I don't want to know how you noticed. Secondly, "this kind of life?" No comment. And finally, what the bloody hell do you mean I'm doing the decorations?"
"Exactly what it means. Now let's go to the library."
"We did a lot of spells in the morning. No need to overwork ourselves."
He rolled his eyes. "Arithmancy homework with Hermione, remember?"
Oh, great.
LEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEFTYLEF TY
I swear, if I ever hear another fan girl tactlessly say, "Oh, Abraxas! You're wonderful at Arithmancy!" in the near future, I was going to levitate Crabbe and hurl him at her.
Malfoy didn't know horse piss about Arithmancy. In a way, I was grateful, because his basic questions triggered something in Grange and before I knew it, she was explaining it so well, I was sure she could finish teaching seven years of Arithmancy in an hour.
Abraxas didn't see it this way, of course. He forced his eyes open every twenty seconds.
But I'd never seen anyone talk so much sense before. I didn't interject much, because not only was she exceedingly accurate in fact throwing, she also sounded so passionate and free – not at all tensing like she usually did in my presence – that it would have been a pity to ruin it.
At this rate, she'd be ahead of me and top the class.
Okay, now I panicked.
"Alright, I think that's enough about numerals for a day," I interrupted. "He's practically sleeping, Granger."
"Tom." He grinned sheepishly at her. "I'm sorry. It's not you, really. I just needed to do homework – otherwise, I hate the subject."
Right. Because having the smartest Sixth Year (hey, if the Head Girl said it, everyone already believes it) as your roommate wasn't good enough. "It's okay," she said, smiling widely.
I had been contemplating the idea, ever since I listened in on her conversation with the Gryffindors, but first, a little clarification was needed. "What do you think of dark spells, Granger?"
She started coughing. What a lousy way to try to distract someone. "Sorry?"
"How do you define dark spells?" I persisted.
She maintained eye contact. "Anything that hurts, or kills you."
"Oh, so every attack or defense spell ever known is dark to you?"
"When I said, "you," I meant the mind, Riddle." She looked away. "You can't heal the mind. You can't heal emotional scars. Not with magic, not with muggle psychologists. Assuming you know what that is."
I nodded, but Abraxas said, "Muggles let the psychotic heal people?"
"Psychologist," I corrected. "Totally different. They heal the psychotic. Er, try to."
He was interested now. "Like, actually heal them?"
"No. They offer comfort, but can't heal," she said. "That's my point."
"What kind of comfort? Potions to calm?"
"Yes. And they talk to you. The healers, I mean."
He raised his eyebrows. "Muggles get paid for talking?"
"They get paid for attempting to understand, attempting to care. They work on a human being's mind like it's an Arithmancy problem. It's very complex, and there is no cure for those type of illnesses, but people don't always want a cure. Some just want momentary relief."
"Okay, back to dark spells," I said impatiently. "Now consider the Unforgiveables. The Imperius and the Cruciatus Curse are dark, by your definition. But what about the killing curse?"
Her laugh was mirthless, so lacking of the joy she'd shown before. "It's the best one in the lot, in my opinion," she said darkly. "A quick, painless death. The only people it hurts is the ones who loved you, but death is something you can move on with, you know?"
She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than me.
How could she say that? I'd take all the pain in the world, if it meant I would get to live through every day and learn more.
To die, just like that, without achieving any sort of purpose, was a terrifying thought. I didn't want to die now.
Right now I was nobody.
But Malfoy agreed with her. "I'd hate to die slowly and painfully. Like, an illness, or something. Just imagine, something as stupid as Dragon Pox."
She stiffened.
I continued. "So if I were to say that I practiced dark spells every day, what would you do?"
Her routine to calm down was comical. She breathed in, she breathed out. She shook her head rigorously. Massaged her brows. Then, "Let me join you. Please."
Bull's eye.
"I just, I like learning new spells, and-"
"Oh, feel free to cut the bullshit, Granger." I smirked at her. "You want to supervise us. I don't know who you think you are, playing hero, but I accept the challenge. It's fine. We don't practice on people, or any living creatures, for that matter. You know why? Because the spells we practice aren't dark by degree of harm. They're dark because of degree of self harm, because they take too much energy, and have possible side effects.
'Exhaustion, and side effects…but there are potions to be taken before. Legal ones, mind."
"I-"
"I know Dumbledore set you up for this, you spineless, judgmental wench," I snarled. "And I'm going to show you that I don't care. We haven't done anything wrong. Whatever he told you," I continued quietly, "Were accidents. I hexed a few, but that's it. Nothing more than what those Gryffindor friends of yours do. If you value the concept of broadening your magical knowledge beyond the boundaries of this bloody school, you'll learn a thing or two from our sessions." I stood up from my seat.
"Tomorrow, five in the morning. Astronomy Tower. Your decision, Hermione."
And with that, I stormed off, not having to look back to know Malfoy had hastily apologised to her and followed me.
A/N: Anyone knows why Hermione stiffened at what Abraxas said? *grins cheekily*