Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

A/N: Haha, pardon the cliffhanger in the last chapter. I sincerely hope this one is to your liking. I'm personally suffocating from all the fluff right now. Yes, we've reached that part—but fortunately/unfortunately, it won't last for long...

I was also rifling through my previous chapters and noticed certain errors regarding characterization of certain characters and I will indeed go back and attempt to amend them as soon as I am finished with this story. Please forgive me; I'm only young and I'm still learning.

Without further ado, here is the next chapter.

Pretending To Live

Chapter 20: Story

Then I took a deep breath, stretched up to my toes because he was so tall, and kissed him.

It wasn't anything elaborate. Nothing was- was open, anyway. I just sort of pressed my lips, very softly, to his. They were warmer than I thought they would be. It was a warmth that spread throughout my whole body, a fusing, melting heat that made my blood sing and my lips sting.

After what seemed like eternity but in reality were only a few seconds, I pulled away and stared anxiously up at him. His expression was blank but he seemed quite frozen, like a statue. I said his name once and his eyes flickered to mine where they burned so fiercely that it was very hard to hold his stare. They searched my own, hungry for the answer to some unknown question and whatever they found must not have been enough to satisfy him for he looked slightly frustrated.

"Happy Birthday," I said.

He looked rather taken aback, but the frustration cleared from his face somewhat. Seemingly unconsciously, he took my hand in his and we began to revolve again on the spot while his eyes, although still fixed to mine, wandered far, far away...

When I woke up in my bed in the morning, I was slightly saddened to be woken up from my wonderful, if rather hazy dream. I wondered sleepily why I was still in my school uniform and why there was a strange, stinging sensation on my lips, as though I had burned them somehow. Then I caught sight of the scarlet Christmas flower lying on my bedside table and I jolted upright in bed with a roar of shock.

It wasn't- I hadn't imagined that?

Images ran through my mind as if on a tape that had been on fast forward...the house of cards...the red flower...falling snow...and...

I gave another roar again as my hands flew to my throat. I let them follow, trembling, the thin chain that was there until I encountered something small, oval shaped and searing hot, even through my school blouse. Quickly, I pulled it out.

And then I held the First Locket, Rowena Ravenclaw's, up to the thin morning light.

It glimmered feebly and its sapphires that made up the ornate 'R' on its surface shone like tiny stars in the silver-white metal. I marvelled at how heavy it was despite its size and how very hot it was in my palm. A wild excitement filled me even as a small part of me whispered reason in my mind...I pushed it away...I could think about that later...

"Oh!"

I dropped the locket; my hands flew up to my lips this time. I had...I had...

In the light of day that could inject both logic and embarrassment into memories of the night earlier, a hot red flush crept up my cheeks. I had done that. Good God...Riddle must be furious...

Riddle! I looked at the window again and swore. It was morning! I had to see him about my corpus potion—

Good God, was that the time?

Shaking my head, I dressed into new clothes as quickly as possible with a mind so distracted as my own- it took me a moment to realize that I was strangling myself with my own pantyhose than tying on my scarf- and, robes backwards, tie askew and buttons on my shirt done up in the wrong places, I barrelled out of the Gryffindor Tower and sprinted to the blank stretch of wall next to the tapestry of dancing trolls.

I burst into the Room, knocking over several small tables in my agitation. Dishevelled, my searching eyes zoomed in immediately on Riddle who was lying with his legs stretched out on the couch, a book in his hands.

We looked at each other for a moment.

"Happy New Year," he said.

"What?" I said stupidly.

His eyebrows arched and he looked amused. Then suddenly I remembered that last night...I lost track of my thoughts for a second...last night had been New Year's Eve, of course. Still, I was surprised that Riddle didn't seem at all angry, or furious as I had expected...instead he was looking at me now as though I posed some distant and fascinating question to him. In fact, in comparison to my hectic and flustered appearance, he looked quite serene.

I stared at him, my whole body taut and tense. Then I relaxed, folding my arms together and grinned ruefully at him. I tested the waters. "Definitely better than last year already, I reckon."

A touch of humor curved the corners of his mouth. "I don't doubt."

I laughed outright at this, partly in relief because things did not seem to have changed too much between us and partly because I rather liked seeing him early in the morning, and then I kicked the door shut behind me.

888

I was outside the castle, sitting down in a nicely hidden area under the shade of several trees just beyond the Black Lake. The grass here was long; I was almost hidden by it, and yellow and white wildflowers surrounded me as I rested, deep in thought.

I had been...inexorably cheerful when I had gone down into the Great Hall this afternoon for lunch. Draco and the others had been startled by my sudden swoop upwards in mood, which had been at an all time low only yesterday, to the point where I actually burst inexplicably into song at the slightest provocation.

"What's gotten into you?" Ron had said in amazement and I had just laughed.

"It's just a nice day, isn't it?" I answered and then burst into uproarious laughter as if I had just told a splendid joke. Ron's eyebrows had risen almost up to his hairline and he exchanged glances with Harry and Hermione who wore the same confused expression.

"What?" I said defensively. "Can't I have a laugh now and then?"

"Sure, if you're not barking mental," Ron said. "I thought you were still hung up about the Ba-"

But Hermione kicked him under the table and he abruptly fell silent with a sheepish expression. I just laughed again and waved a hand as if to say what's passed is past and turned to Draco who looked bemused.

"So, how did your night go?" I said lightly as I cut my steak and kidney pie. I was suddenly very eager to hear about what I had missed at the Ball, despite the fact that I had shied away from event the barest mention of it previously. "You know, with Augusta."

Draco turned quite green and Ron and Harry sniggered; even Hermione had trouble maintaining her tense, worried face as she hid her smile.

"Yeah, go on Draco," Ron chortled. "How was it?"

Draco sneered but his face was a brilliant pink and I looked between the two, mystified. "I don't understand. What happened?"

"He had a bit of a nasty shock," Hermione stage whispered, "when he realized that she was related to one of our classmates back at home."

Draco made an angry noise and I stared uncomprehendingly at him. "Augusta...Burke?" I said slowly, although I racked my brains for the familiar names of the Hogwarts students. "Augusta...Augusta..."

"Augusta Longbottom," Hermione said. "Our friend Neville Longbottom's grandmother."

My mouth dropped open and I quickly shut it, for I wasn't supposed to have recognized the name. "So why's he so...?"

"He and Neville," Hermione began, "they don't exactly get along..."

"Wouldn't that just do him in, if it turned out Neville had a secret Granddaddy Draco?" Ron said, chortling to Harry and they sniggered again.

I bit my lip to suppress my laughter. In my most sincere tone, I said, "Sorry about that, brother."

"Yeah, well, you should be," Draco muttered angrily, "you're the one who made me bloody ask her in the first place!"

"So what happened?" I said. "When you found out?"

"I ditched her amidst the Frittering Fairies," he said and I whistled lowly between my teeth.

"Bet she didn't like that."

He drew himself up and looked down at me in his most haughty manner, the effect of which was somewhat ruined by Ron and Harry collapsing in fits of laughter on the other side of the table. Hermione looked like she was biting on the inside of her lip as she said, "Well...no, not really," she admitted. "Augusta-er-Mrs Longbottom—as it turns out, is actually quite talented at the Bat Bogey Hex."

"Really?"

"Couldn't even see his face, there were all these great giant flapping things on him," Ron said cheerfully and Draco, seeming to have had enough, stood up. He made a rude hand gesture in Ron's general direction and left the Hall, his back very straight and chin held high.

"So...you're alright now?" Harry said awkwardly.

I grimaced. I didn't think that my foul mood had been that noticeable. "Yeah, it's all good."

But my hand crept up to touch the Locket around my neck even as I said the words.

Now, amidst the grass and melting snow, I forced my mind away from its path and picked one of the flowers bobbing its white head in the wind next to me. I held it up so that the breeze lifted its petals and with my other hand, removed the First Locket from under my blouse.

I turned it once in my hand. Immediately the flower began to wither and shrivel before my eyes, its feathery white petals turning yellow, then brown and finally black...

I turned the Locket again. The process reversed at once, the black petals turning yellow then pure white once more. Then I watched as the petals receded into the stem, as did the leaves and roots until there lay nothing more than a smooth brown seed in my palm.

I shivered. To control Time! What a great and terrible power...

I picked another flower, a violet this time and held it up. But just as I was about to turn the Locket in my hand, a butterfly alighted on it, large and glowing orange with black markings. It was beautiful and I watched it in wonder as it beat its delicate wings slowly as it teetered on the flower's petals. A thought came to mind, unbidden, and I recoiled instinctively, surprised that I should even have thought such a thing.

I looked at the butterfly. Still...I was curious...

I turned the Locket in my hand. Before my wide eyes, the butterfly's movements slowed until they became little more than a feeble twitch. Its wings dulled to a dry brown and grew brittle until they finally collapsed in on themselves. The butterfly gave one last twitch and was still.

It fell off the violet and into my hand. Abruptly, I was filled with an irrational panic; I turned the Locket in my hand, hoping to bring it back to life. Nothing happened. I turned it again and the butterfly remained in my palm, as shrivelled and unmoving as ever.

"It's dead."

I gave a start and looked up at the expressionless face of Riddle, who had apparently been watching me. "That's why it won't work," he said, nodding at the Locket, "because it's already gone."

I looked back at the butterfly. A part of me felt sadness at being the reason for its death and I let it fall from my hand. "This is very dangerous," I murmured, more to myself.

Tom looked at me for a while longer and then sat down on one of the raised roots of the tree behind me. I swiveled around so we were facing each other and met his eyes.

"You have the Second Locket," I said quietly. His gaze bored into mine and he nodded. Without taking his eyes off me, his hands slipped under his collar and pulled out a long, gold chain. On the end of it was a locket, about the size of a chicken's egg and marked with a serpentine 'S' made out of gleaming emeralds. It was handsomer than Ravenclaw's and far larger...and I was filled with a dim sense of foreboding as I looked upon it.

"How." I tried to put every ounce of bewilderment I was feeling into that single syllable.

He twirled a blade of grass between his long fingers and said calmly, "Perhaps you've been wondering where I was these past few days."

"I know where you were," I said sharply. "In the forest, with the diadem."

Tom gave me an impenetrable look. "I was in Borgin and Burkes."

"Borgin and...?"

"A shop in Knockturn Alley. I work there sometimes, when I can. During the holidays normally. I returned there after Christmas, when I was summoned by Mr Burke to attend to one of our regular clients."

"You were working?" I said, stupefied. "Why?"

He sent me another unreadable look. Then he moved from the tree root so that he was sitting amidst the long grass, directly in front of me. "I should start from the beginning," he said quietly. "If you would listen."

"I would."

Tom was silent and I watched him play with the blade of grass in his fingers. Then he threw it away and sighed. "In the time of the Founders," he said, "Salazar Slytherin created two Lockets: one for Rowena Ravenclaw and one for himself."

"Because he loved her," I recalled.

"Yes," Tom said dispassionately. "You know what happened next. Slytherin disagreed with the other Founders. He left the school. But his Locket remained behind, along with that of Ravenclaw's."

"So it was in the school?" I whispered in shock. "Where you found it?"

His mouth curved slightly. "Shall I finish or do you want to do the honor for me?"

When I said nothing, he went on, "Ravenclaw was...distraught when she found out. She couldn't bear to have anything that reminded her of him within the castle's walls and she knew that he had left his Locket with her, because she knew him as well as she did herself. Ravenclaw knew that he had a secret place, although he never disclosed to her its location and so she endeavoured to find it herself and the Locket within it." He paused.

"Rowena Ravenclaw was renowned for her cleverness. She managed to find the Chamber and open it," Tom sounded a little bemused. "When she returned with the Locket, she wished to have nothing more to do with Slytherin and so she sought out Godric Gryffindor and asked him a favour: to hide the Locket where she could never find it.

"I understand that Godric Gryffindor kept the Locket for some time, for he was uncertain of what to do with it. Ravenclaw had not told him of its power; however, she once mentioned the power of her own as Gryffindor had often wondered why she still wore it long after Slytherin had gone. He realized then, what he had to do and so, borrowing Ravenclaw's Locket, he returned it to Slytherin's successors, in his line."

"He...travelled in time?"

"Gryffindor felt that because the Locket bore Slytherin's mark and was made with his own magic, it should remain within his line," Tom said quietly. "And so he passed it down to my great great great grandparents...on my mother's side." His tone became bitter. "My mother," he said, "ran away with the Locket when she eloped with my father. And when he left her, while she was still pregnant with me, she became desperate. She sold the Locket to a man by the name of Caractacus Burke, where it was in turn, years later, sold to a woman called Hepzibah Smith."

"That was where you were," I murmured in realization, imagining it in my head. Tom, who was so handsome, who had flattered and flirted with an old woman, a regular client, surrounded by her priceless relics and treasures...who had let her show him her most valuable of all her possessions: Hufflepuff's cup and the Second Locket of Slytherin...and then...

"Tom, you didn't kill her, did you?"

A thick silence hung between us as I waited for his answer.

"No," he said flatly, "I didn't."

"I had to ask," I muttered. "But you stole the Locket from her? How did she not notice it gone?"

"Miss Hepzibah has a great many possessions that are precious to her, and a great many hiding places to stow them in," Tom said quietly. "I only took one item from her and replaced it with a very convincing copy. I learned many things about recognizing fakes at Borgin and Burkes."

He sounded slightly wistful when he said that he had only stole one item and I took this to mean that Helga Hufflepuff's cup remained as of yet in Hepzibah Smith's possession.

"How do you know all this?" I asked him. "About the Founders, I mean."

"When I found the First Locket, there were pages of a journal enclosed within it," Tom said thoughtfully. "Ravenclaw's, I'm sure of it."

I nodded; I remembered how a page filled with Slytherin's words describing the nature of the Twin Lockets had been found along with R.A.B.'s note inside the fake Horcrux that Dumbledore had shown us so long ago in the past, yet so far into the future. He had told us a version of the same story, although there were a few inconsistencies...for instance, he had thought that Riddle had obtained the Second Locket before he had the First...

That was another thing I wanted to ask him and when I next looked up at Riddle, his grey eyes were burning with amusement. "I expect you want me to tell you how I found the First Locket as well?"

I half smiled. "Please."

"They said Ravenclaw died of a broken heart," he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, "but she must have hid the First Locket before she did. It was an accident when I found it at the end of my fifth year. I was in the highest part of the Astronomy Tower because Professor Reed had asked me to stay behind to assist in putting away the telescopes...I was left alone and when I looked up at the sky I thought at first that it was a star, far more luminous and large than any I had ever seen...but I knew the charts and realized my mistake quickly. I reached up and it fell into my hand; I opened it and read its contents and...I knew what power I possessed.

"And so I claimed the First Locket for my own."

"It fell into your hand?" I repeated in disbelief. "Just like that?"

"Ravenclaw prized knowledge over all else," he reminded me. "It was a very advanced illusion...I expect that only those who could recognize the error in the sky without knowing about the Locket beforehand could be deemed worthy by her magic to obtain it."

"And Professor Reed never noticed it?"

Tom's only response was a slightly self-satisfied smirk.

"The Astronomy Tower," I said suddenly. "That's the highest point of Hogwarts, isn't it? And Ravenclaw's symbol..."

"...was an eagle, yes," Tom finished with a thin smile. "Very good, Ariadne. I suspected then that Slytherin, whose symbol was a snake, would naturally have left his in the lowest point of Hogwarts, that is..."

"The Chamber of Secrets," I whispered. "But it was already gone by then."

I fell silent, thinking about all he'd told me, turning each piece of information over in my mind. Finally, the full story. Everything that I had wondered since the beginning of this mission...but I had never in my life dreamed that it would come from the mouth of the Heir of Slytherin himself...

"Do you know, Ariadne?"

I looked up, frowning. "What?"

His gaze was very steady. "The power of Slytherin's Locket."

I stared at him. Then I said, quietly, as I recalled Dumbledore's words from so long ago, "It reflects one's desires," I said, "and allows the user to manipulate them as well."

"Very good," Tom said again and this time there was no humor in his face.

I attempted a grin. "I did my reading."

"It would seem so," he replied and suddenly there was a hungry look in his eyes, the same as the one that been there after I had kissed him. He leaned forward, and I mirrored him unconsciously. "You have many secrets, Ariadne de Lioncourt."

"I thought they no longer interested you," I hedged. "Because you knew that all your questions will be answered...eventually."

" 'Eventually' is a long time to wait," he murmured.

I looked down at my hands. "I guess I'll have to stay shrouded in mystery for a little longer, then."

Tom looked amused and I threw a daisy at him, smiling wryly. The sun burst out from behind the clouds then, bathing us in warmth and around Riddle's neck, the Second Locket caught its rays, winking gold at me. A question rose to my lips then: what do you see in the Second Locket, Tom? before I realized that the answer would not be one that I would particularly want to know. Some questions were better left unasked.

"What is it?" Tom said quietly and I knew that he had felt my hesitation.

A pink flush rose in my cheeks and I looked down at my hands again because another question had arisen in my mind, one that I was desperately curious to ask him. "About last night..." I said awkwardly.

An ink black eyebrow rose but despite his otherwise impassive expression, something in the peaceful atmosphere had changed suddenly: the air lay thick and charged between us. "What about it?"

"You gave the First Locket to me," I said softly, wonderingly. "And, well... I know you. I know you don't do these things lightly. So, tell me-because I'm very curious..." I picked another flower and began to twist it in my hands , "...does that mean that you trust me?"

I didn't look at him as the silence dragged on, nor did I respond to the weight of his burning gaze on my face. I began to tear the petals off the flower, one by one. I saw him reach out a hand towards me and became very still as he carefully picked up the First Locket from where it had been resting against my chest and held it up to the light. He played with it absentmindedly, his thoughts seemingly far away.

"Keep it safe," he said quietly.

I tore off the last petal and when I next looked up at him, there was something in his eyes that was almost warm despite their frozen color. And then I had to look away because my heart was fluttering again, like a foolish bird trapped in a cage...

In the days that followed, we began working on my corpus potion again. Day and night, I was constantly surrounded by multitudes of potion bottles, flasks, cauldrons and vials while he monitored my response to different draughts or elixirs—it exhausted me, but I felt for some reason that he was trying to make up for the lost days in which I had been left alone.

"How do you feel?" He would say sharply, assessing me with his calculating eyes. Sometimes—and these were my favorite times—I would say that I was fine and then he would give a satisfied nod and the day would progress as normal. But more often than not, I could not reply at all because I would simply vomit, or my throat would swell up so much that I could only gag, or I would faint and only return to consciousness several hours later.

Today, after holding my breath so as to avoid the bitter taste of the potion, I stretched out my arms and legs and flexed my fingers. I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows. "I feel quite the same, to be honest."

He relaxed. "And the nausea...?"

"I- well, I suppose it's gone."

"You don't sound too certain."

"I don't think there's anything left to chuck up, alright?" I said impatiently. "I feel fine, Tom, I-oh. Oh." I blinked. "Oh no."

I heard him approach. "Ariadne?"

I inhaled slowly through my nose and tried not to feel my panic. "I...I think I've gone blind," I said as calmly as I could. "I can't see anything."

There was the sound of many drawers being opened and rummaged through and much clinking of vials. Finally there was a hiss as-presumably- something was being dropped into a cauldron and then what felt like a glass vial filled with something very cold was being pushed into my hands.

"Drink this," Tom ordered and I did.

I shuddered violently as the potion went down, for it was like swallowing ice. I waited for something to happen but everything remained pitch black, as if someone had drawn a curtain over my eyes.

"Say something," I said.

"My name is Tom Riddle," Tom said and I let my eyes wander to the source of the sound of his voice.

"Hello, Tom Riddle."

"Has your sight returned?"

"Not yet. Can you keep talking?"

"What shall I say?"

I thought about it for a moment. "You're not wearing your uncle's ring anymore."

There was a pause. "No," he said, "I returned back to the hovel."

He did not say anything more and I didn't press him further. I was beginning to notice a change in my blackened sight- although gradually, dim pinpricks of light were shining through the darkness, which slowly became brighter until my vision returned, although so blurry that I couldn't distinguish between colors. I shook my head, slightly disoriented by all of this.

When the colors sharpened and I could see again it was his face I saw first and I was momentarily tongue-tied for he was closer to me than I had expected, his face only inches away from mine. I had been about to say 'thank you', but what flew out of my mouth instead was, "D'you wanna go out with me?"

Tom frowned. "What?"

I turned bright red. "Hang on, that didn't come out right. What I mean to say is, would you like to go out to Hogsmeade with me? We've been in the Room all day and I reckon me going blind is a sort of sign that it's time to take a break..."

He folded his arms across his chest and appeared to think deeply about my proposition, a slight frown coming to his face. Then he nodded. "Alright."

"Yeah?" I said, absurdly pleased. "C'mon then, the next carriages are in a few minutes and I don't plan on walking there again..."

Knocking over several bottles of potion in my excitement and haste, I donned my outer school robes and dashed out of the Room, only glancing back to make sure that he was still behind me. We reached the front entrance of the castle just in time for me to aggressively flag down the last carriage and I clambered inside, Riddle entering with much more composure after me and taking the window seat on the opposite side. A Gryffindor boy and a Ravenclaw girl that I didn't recognize were already there and they gaped at the sight of Riddle and I together.

Tom nodded at them. "Davies, Spinnet, how are you?"

"Good thanks, Riddle," the boy replied and I turned my head to look out the window as they carried on a pleasantly shallow conversation. It occurred to me as I was watching the grounds go by, once again covered in white due to the recent heavy snowfall, that I had never actually been anywhere with Riddle before that was not out of necessity for his Horcruxes and my corpus potion and the thought made me nervous and slightly giddy.

When the carriage finally stopped, I had become so fidgety that I actually kicked the door open and jumped out, sinking ankle-deep in snow. Behind me, Riddle bade goodbye to the other two and stood by my side, wearing a slightly bemused, yet exasperated look. "What has gotten into you?"

I didn't answer, choosing instead to wrap my red and gold scarf more tightly around my nose and mouth; the exposed parts of my face stung in the biting wind. "Nothing," I said, my voice slightly muffled. I shifted restlessly on the balls of my feet. "Where do you want to go?"

"You're the one who wanted to come here, Ariadne," he reminded me.

"Let's just take a walk around then," I suggested. We saw a fair few more Hogwarts students as we wandered the grounds and but no one else seemed to recognize us. I felt a little bit awkward because I had never met with Riddle under casual circumstances before and I was therefore uncertain of appropriate conversation topics that didn't revolve around lockets, Horcruxes or my corpus potion.

"It's...nice weather, isn't it?"

"No better than yesterday," was his indifferent reply and I felt disheartened and also slightly annoyed. Honestly. What did people talk about on these sorts of-good Lord, was this a date?

I felt foolish for not realizing the full implications of visiting Hogsmeade with Tom earlier-I had sincerely just wanted to get away from the Room- but then again, I wasn't even sure if we were in that way. Certainly, I had kissed him and he had been stunned by it, shocked even- but he had made no mention of the subject since. It was so odd. I had been sure that he would not have reacted well, once he had gotten over his initial surprise...

But he was here with me now, walking calmly in the snow by my side, completely unfazed.

So what then? Was the feeling mutual? Somehow I doubted this very much. But then...he had given me that Locket, hadn't he? For all my limited experience with romance, I was absolutely certain that mere Potions partners were not often in the habit of giving one another extremely powerful and supposedly lost magical artefacts...

I tried to consider my situation from an outsider's point of view. I was alone, outside of school, with a boy that I liked very much. I had spent much time alone with said boy previously. Said boy had asked me out to the school Ball (although that had not ended well). I had kissed said boy before...

Surely then, this counted as a date. I had very limited experience with this. I don't think I had ever even thought of the possibility of the idea of the subject in the past three years. I mean-I guess it was partly because I didn't really find any of the boys back home particularly interesting...I mean, nothing had caught my attention, really...

I cringed at the implications. So, I only needed for someone to try and kill me before I noticed them, yeah? How dense could I get?

No denser than this conversation- or lack thereof, I thought sullenly as I plodded through the snow. I sneaked a glance at Riddle- he didn't seem to notice the awkwardness, as he looked immensely deep in thought. It was rapidly becoming his standard expression these days: this slight frown, his grey eyes cool and unconcerned as though preoccupied with matters of greater importance than that of the mundane. I just wish I knew what he was thinking about.

The familiar frustration I was beginning to associate with both the loss and presence of Tom Riddle was beginning to build up again; however, I was momentarily distracted by the large snowball that hit its target with a thwack! at the back of my head.

I whirled around. "Oi!"

"Sorry!" A thin Gryffindor boy with untidy black hair called out, but there was a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth and around him, his friends roared with laughter.

I narrowed my eyes at them. "Plureglacius volito," I whispered and I watched in satisfaction as a hundred snowballs rose from the ground at once all around me and Riddle.

The smile drained from the boy's face. "You wouldn't," he said, horrified.

"You'll get yours, Potter!" I laughed, loud and maniacal as I flicked my wand and the snowballs zoomed towards him in vengeful droves and he swore as he tried to duck and dodge them, but to no avail. His friends roared even harder at the sight and by the end it was as if he had turned into a very thin snowman.

"He's gonna get me back for that later," I muttered to Riddle and I hurried the both of us off, before Charlus Potter, who was my notoriously troublemaking classmate and something like Harry's great grandfather, could retaliate.

"Is that common?" Riddle said, sounding amused and I laughed, slightly breathless from the run.

"Yeah, well, if I'm not chucking stuff at Draco it's normally Potter, so..."

Feeling as if the ice- heh- was already broken between us and considerably more relaxed, I said, "I miss this."

He looked enquiringly at me and I elaborated. "When I was a kid," I said as he fell into step beside me, "my dad had this thing about going out in the snow. Said it was good for you, strengthened your immune system, right? Of course my mum knew better, and she often scolded my poor pa for teaching me such nonsense-but he'd always reply that he hadn't caught his death from the cold yet, what was she making all the fuss for? One time they had this huge argument about it-I guess she just got fed up or something- and my dad," here I laughed outright, "well, he was always a bit of a nutter, not to mention had a bit of a rebellious streak.

"So, one fine snowy morning, me and mum awoke to this giant racket, I mean seriously loud, and we looked out the window and...there he was." I shook my head. "Completely starkers, banging mum's kitchen pans as he strolled around in our own backyard singing Christmas carols at the top of his lungs. I mean really," I said in exasperation. "Of course, mum threw a raging fit and threatened to throw him out right then and there if he didn't come back in...he did, after a while. Sick as a dog for ages afterward, though. But then it became a tradition of a sort, afterwards, for the whole family to go out in the snow after Christmas. Nothing special. We just sort of-sort of walked around our neighborhood for a bit, made snow angels and snowmen until one of us complained..." I smiled faintly and gestured around. "That's just what this reminded me of. I miss that."

Tom watched me as I trailed off, feeling slightly embarrassed. It wasn't like me to reminisce so openly about a part of my life that I preferred to keep private and I felt all at once fierce and conflicted; very warm and very cold for reasons that had nothing to do with the weather.

"What were they like?" He said quietly. "Your parents, I mean?"

I nearly smiled; whether by chance or not, he had used the same phrasing that I had when I had once asked him about his grandparents, so long ago. And, like him, I felt rather uncomfortable with answering the question.

"Well, my pa, he was..." I began uncertainly, "he was very kind. He's spare a coin for anyone who needed it and wasn't at all preoccupied with getting it back, which often got us into a few tight spots, money wise I mean. And my mum...she had a right temper but she did everything...with her whole heart, d'you get what I mean? If she loved someone, she'd love them fiercely until the very end; if she hated someone, well...let's say you would know about it." I paused. "But she was always one for second chances, so she never hated for too long."

"You must have loved them very much," Tom said and my ears reacted to the almost undetectable false note in his voice: he sounded sincere but just beneath that, slightly scornful, almost mocking.

"I told you not to pretend with me," I snapped at him and his eyes narrowed.

"Fine," he said coldly. "Then, Ariadne, I think you are foolish and silly for simpering and sighing about how wonderful and perfectly lovely your parents were, when the most interesting thing they had ever done in their lives was die-," his face twisted into an ugly sneer, "- in front of you. Is that more preferable?"

I stared at him.

"That's just it, Tom," I said lowly, fighting my anger. "I hate...talking about them like this-like they're alive, as if their deaths were erased somehow...it's like focusing on the good and leaving out the bad. But then you get this-this half story, not a whole. You have this malformed, twisted idol that you shaped to dramatise their life, make them seem more heroic or whatever-and you're doing them an injustice. You're saying that these people, these people who had meant so much to me in life, with all their faults and hurts, are somehow not good enough in death. Not everyone dies a hero, Tom. Not everyone's death means something. But what else am I supposed to say? These imperfect words..." I struggled for a moment and then met his eyes coolly. "I loved them. Then they died, but I still love them. That's all that should be said."

He looked at me, long and calculating and I stared back, rubbing my mitten-covered hands together and occasionally blowing hot air into them.

"Are you cold?" He said abruptly.

I nodded and the atmosphere lightened somewhat. "Yeah. I could use a drink, I reckon."

He gave me another shrewd look and sighing, I wandered off, not even bothering to check if he was behind me. My gaze alighted on the Three Broomsticks, which was packed as always and I slowed down...but then I quickened my pace, taking a different path.

"The Hog's Head?" Tom said quietly. I had to admit that its dingy and dark appearance did seem less appealing next to the cheery warmth of the Three Broomsticks but I just shrugged and entered. I ordered two Butterbeers at the counter and picked the table that was furthest away from the windows (which were so dirty that no one could see anything through them anyway).

We were both silent at the table; my eyes darted around over my Butterbeer at the other customers. There were a few shady looking characters: a hooded man sitting alone at the bar counter with a glass filled with something darkly glutinous; three very old women, their faces also covered by black veils, that appeared to be doing their knitting together. But there were no other Hogwarts students apart from Riddle and I.

"You don't want to be seen with me." He said. It wasn't a question.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said tersely. "Spinnet and Davies saw us earlier, remember?"

"I mean your friends." He said flatly and there was no denying it when his eyes bored into mine like that. "They don't like me, do they?"

"Whatever gave you that impression?" I muttered under my breath. I sighed and put down my glass, stalling a little. "They...they come from a background where they've learned to recognize Dark magic when they see it. And when they see you...well..."

Tom snorted. "You would be surprised what some of your friends do outside school hours, Ariadne," he said and I knew that he was thinking of Ron and Harry's involvement in his Knights of Walpurgis.

"I reckon they'd be the same with me," I pointed out and he inclined his head.

"You told me that you weren't related to any of them," he said suddenly and I nodded.

"Not by blood, no."

He raised his eyebrows. "So you and de Lioncourt...?"

"We aren't related, but he's my brother," I said firmly.

Riddle traced the lip of his glass with a long finger absentmindedly. "How did that come about?"

I was surprised at the direction the conversation had turned toward-we were discussing Draco, of all people- and I drew patterns in the dust that covered the table as I mulled his question over.

"I suppose," I said slowly, "at first it was because we were the ones that didn't belong, in the beginning. Ron, Harry and Hermione- they knew each other as friends well before I met them, and Draco knew them too but...well. He's not the exactly the easiest person to get along with. I didn't like him either, not at first. But underneath all that load of rubbish and prejudice and whatever-deep underneath, mind you...he can be so good-hearted, when he wants." And he understood what it was like to feel trapped, to wish for a clean slate so badly that you'd kill for it, if the opportunity presented itself. Although I didn't mention any of this to Riddle.

I glanced up at him and he was watching me with a curious, unreadable expression. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I was thinking," he said, "that you see much more than you should in those that don't deserve it."

He met my eyes and I felt suddenly disconcerted, unsteady. The stinging feeling erupted again in my lips and something hot and alive snaked its way deep in the pit of my stomach. Placed flat against the surface of the table, my palms were slick. I could hear my heartbeat roar in my ears. I felt like I were resisting two very instinctual forces- the need to lean closer to him and the need to run away.

I cleared my throat and jerked my head at the exit. "Shall we?"

Expression unreadable yet again he nodded; I tossed a Galleon on the table and he caught it before it landed.

"I'll get that," he murmured, handing it back to me and replacing it with one of his own; I quirked a brow at him.

"I can't let you pay for our date, Ariadne," he said with the same deceptively blank expression but with something that was barely a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth and I gaped at his back as he left, his long cloak billowing behind him.

888

What was left of the Christmas holidays passed much in this vein: with Riddle. When we weren't working on my corpus potion in the daylight hours, we were normally wandering the grounds, although few people ever saw us what with most of the students still away and Riddle's apparently unconscious tendency to seek out only the most deserted places to gallivant about in. We did argue, sometimes to the point of duelling again; sometimes we barely spoke at all.

One such time we were sitting under the beech tree by the lakeside; he was reading some thick and cruel book and I was staring out at the Lake, twisting the chain of the First Locket absently around my finger.

"I didn't."

I looked at him in faint surprise and he was watching me over the top of his book. "I didn't make the Horcrux. The diadem is in the castle...but only as a diadem."

There were many things I was feeling and that I wanted to say, but because I knew that Tom would hate that and perhaps already himself for not doing what he felt he needed to do, I simply nodded.

"Okay," I said, and we did not speak again for the rest of the afternoon.

On the last day of the holidays, when the majority of the students had already returned to Hogwarts although some were still trickling in early in the morning the next day, I was with Tom in the Room of Requirement. I was sitting on the hearth by the fire, because a frequent side effect of either my corpus or one of our potions was for me to lose sensation in the tips of my fingers and toes, and to be more susceptible to the cold. Riddle was sitting on the red velvet couch and was watching me, as he so often did these days.

"Tell me something about you," I said, as I held my hands closer to the fire.

He said quietly, "What do you want to know?"

I thought for a moment. "Tell me...why immortality?"

"There is nothing worse than death, Ariadne."

It was silent as I thought about what he said; I weighed and turned it over in my mind; I tested the truth of it and compared it to what felt true.

"I don't agree," I said carefully and he made a noise of derision. "I think that there can be many things worse than death."

"And what is it do you fear then, Ariadne?" He jeered.

"I suppose...living on."

His eyebrows rose worryingly high in disbelief and he opened his mouth in a sneer but I held up a hand. "Wait," I pleaded. "I know that it sounds ridiculous. But you have to ask yourself, in regards to death...is it harder for the one that leaves or the one that is left behind?" I hesitated. "What hurts more: to lose life or love?"

But when I looked at him, his expression was very cold and I turned back to the fire. "Never mind. I'm sorry I brought it up."

He didn't say anything. After a minute, I said, "Can I ask you something else?"

"Another theory?" He said, his tone laden with sarcasm.

"No," I said, frowning. But I didn't say anything more, instead picking up a random book from one of the piles reading the floor and burying myself gratefully into the distraction.

Much later, the clocktower boomed and both Tom and I looked up.

"Well, Ariadne," he said lazily, seemingly over his dark mood, "it's the last night of the Christmas holidays. What do want to do?"

My mind went blank; there was a pop as something very large materialized in the center of the Room and all the blood rose to my cheeks as I frantically wished it away whereupon it disappeared with another popping sound.

"Was that a bed?" Tom said in amazement and I snarled wordlessly at him. It took me a minute to get my head back together and all the while, Riddle's dark eyes glittered with the air of one who was thoroughly enjoying themselves.

I shot him a warning look before I said carefully, "The house dormitories will be full tonight. I'm not much looking forward to it."

"Neither am I," he said with an absurdly grave expression, although there was a suspicious curve around the corners of his mouth.

"I don't especially want to answer their questions on what happened during the Ball, either," I muttered darkly and his face became grim. "So...I was thinking of staying here. In the Room."

"In the Room?" He echoed. "You're not returning to the Gryffindor Tower?"

"No."

Hi eyes rested on mine and I had the sense that he was following my train of thought; imagining what I was going to say before I said it.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," he said carefully, deliberately. "As a Prefect, it is my duty to make sure that all students are in their beds by the appointed time. If I were to leave this Room, then I would have no choice but to inform your Head of House."

I nodded slowly, pretending to think it over as if he hadn't just told me an outright lie. I met his eyes. "Then stay with me."

He looked at me for a long time and then that strange expression passed over his face again. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," I said. There was a long silence and then he gave a slow nod, never taking his eyes off mine.

"You don't mind?" I said disbelievingly.

He shook his head, the strange look still there. It disturbed me; it was like he knew something that I didn't...something that was somehow important...

I cleared my throat. "I guess then...I'd better go change..."

I returned some minutes later, toothbrush in hand and found him pacing the room. He looked up and did a double take; I glanced down at the sunshine-yellow nightgown that I was wearing.

"I found it in the Room's bathroom," I said casually and he nodded, sitting back down on the couch, his posture rigid and his hands curled into fists over his knees. I lay down on the long sofa across from him and covered myself with the blanket, watching him through slitted eyes.

He was tense; barely moving in his seat as he stared at the fire. Honestly, I scoffed, it's not like I was wearing anything revealing: it was an old fashioned cut and the thin cotton material extended all the way to my wrists. He had even seen me in it once before...

It couldn't be because we were spending the night together; we had already done that several times previously, working on his Horcruxes. Although, I thought with some worry, this was the first time since I had kissed him...and I had certainly never asked him to stay before...

I yawned as I stretched and then I groaned out loud. "I definitely think I won't get any sleep tonight."

I peeked over the covers at him but he didn't crack a smile; the only change he had made in his position was that his eyes had slid from the fire to me. I sighed and I turned so that my head was propped up on one elbow, facing him.

"Read to me," I said.

That got a reaction out of him; he frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I know for sure that whatever you're reading will definitely put me right to bed," I said cheekily.

He snorted and I noticed, with some satisfaction, that his posture had relaxed slightly. "That's hardly a good reason."

"I might learn something," I said, smiling. I was already feeling rather drowsy but I was curious to see if he would do it.

He sighed but to my immense surprise, he pulled the book from the couch and let it fall open on his lap. "Chapter One," he began, "The Properties of Moonstone and its Uses in Potion Making."

I mimed snoring and he gave me a look.

"A gemstone of medium value, moonstone has luminescent properties and, if powdered, is a key ingredient in strengthening draughts and love philtres..."

True to my word, I was asleep by the second paragraph, although whether my by request or his own desire, he continued reading late into the night.

A/N: Alright, let's analyse this royal mess between Ari and Tom.

First of all, although Ari likes him, she's not in love with him yet. Tom is not in love with her either, nor does he like her in the same way Ari likes him. At the moment, he is simply choosing to go along with this whole situation, even if it means being perceived as someone's "boyfriend" merely because he is curious to see where it will take him. This is all very new to him as well, as he had only been concerned with himself prior to this and although he knows he is admired, he had never returned interest in any other person to the same extent that he does Ariadne. And so, being not only in JKR's words, a psychopath, but a brilliant one, he is very much interested in seeing the cause and effect relationship between what he does and how Ariadne reacts. In short, he wants to see how much power he holds over her now that he is aware that she likes him in that way.

On the other hand, a part of him recognizes that he does appreciate her company; however, the extent of this is unknown to him. And there is that certain part of him that is fascinated by her, although this part remains for the most part unacknowledged but still present.

Finally, because he is not as psychopathic as his elder self, certain things Ari does can affect him like every other human teenage boy. Because I do believe that there is always hope.

TL;DR—Are Tom and Ari a couple? No. They are only two people that have been thrown together by unfortunate chance and mutual—but very different types of—interest in one another.

Happy New Year!