Chapter 98:

Harry paused, catching a glimpse of growing familiar blonde hair, and without giving too much thought to his actions, he hurried to catch up.

"Hey - Luna - Luna?"

The girl paused, turning around to face him, a polite expression on her face, not seeming surprised or bothered that he knew her name.

"Harry Potter," she greeted calmly, with a smile.

"Um, hi," he said, feeling awkward now.

Sure, he'd wanted to talk to her, but he'd never actually planned how to do it.

"Could you…I mean…what did you mean by a slap from Fate and a kiss from Luck?" he ended up just blurting it out, and could feel his cheeks heating in both embarrassment and memory.

"Fate wanted me to slap you, and Luck wanted me to give you a kiss," she said, as if that explained everything.

"Well, yeah," Harry replied. "But what do you mean Fate and Luck? They're not-" he paused just shy of saying they're not real things. "I don't understand," he said instead.

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Your head is rather full of Nargles," she said, in an agreeing tone of voice. "I could make you a necklace that could help with that?"

"Oh," Harry said. "That would be great, Luna, thanks…er, what are Nargles?" he asked, wondering when he'd managed to get so utterly distracted.

"They're things that float around and make your brain go all fuzzy."

"Any of them called Tom?" Harry asked, jokingly, before he could stop himself. She looked pensive.

"No, I don't think so," she said. "There's a Mottie though, which is nearly the same thing."

He blinked.

"Well, anyway, could you explain what Fate and Luck are in a way that would get past the Nargles?" he questioned, wondering if he was fighting a losing battle.

"Fate is everything that is predetermined and should be. Luck is her sister, and opponent in their game"

That really didn't explain all that much.

"But are they real?" he asked. She gave him an odd look.

"Of course they're real, Harry Potter - just because they're not real like you and me that doesn't mean they're not real and don't exist. You're governed by them, aren't you?"

Right.

He resisted the urge to smooth away a headache.
This was going to be a long conversation.

Hermione stared nervously at the dark haired, admittedly really rather handsome, teenager in front of her.

She'd said 'no' to his offer, more due to the way Harry and Ron were staring at her than any real convictions against torturing Lestrange, the arse. How dare he?

So why was he here now?

He stood in front of her, a beguiling smirk on his lips and a magnetically engaging gleam in his eye. Still, she took a nervous step back; wishing she had someone else with her.

It was still only late afternoon morphing to early evening, so she hadn't thought to need someone to hold her hand but…being tracked down personally by Tom Riddle wasn't exactly an expected outcome.

He'd largely ignored her and Ron, unless it was in his particular interests to converse or communicate in some way with them. She'd certainly never been alone with him before.

"What do you want?" she asked, before immediately wincing at the almost accusatory edge to her tone. She was just…

"You seem flustered," he drawled. "Not my doing, surely. You always appeared to have such a level head."

"No!" she snapped, hoping to avoid the sensation of heat rising from her skin in blush. "You place yourself in too high esteem. I'm just surprised you'd deigned to talk to us…me."

He folded his arms lazily, leaning into the wall in her way, that charismatically, infuriatingly casual expression on his face.

"I couldn't help but notice that your heart didn't really seem invested in your earlier refusal…and who am I to deny you the chance to defend your friend? Would you like to rework your answer?"

"Why do you care?" she questioned guardedly. "From what I've heard you've got all the sadistic tendencies to desire to harm him yourself."

His smirk broadened, but it was crueller now, but no less attractive for it…and for god's sake! She needed to get a grip on herself.

It wasn't that she liked him. She didn't. She was just flattered by the attention, and the intensity of his singular scrutiny was liable to make anyone feel dazzled - she'd seen it happen with every single person, barring Harry, that the Slytherin Heir paid attention too.

That hardly reassured her though.

"Firstly, because Lestrange would no doubt gain satisfaction from any attention I pay him right now and would in some way see it as a reward, which would thus be counterproductive in dissuading him from so much as looking at Harry in the wrong way again…" there was something menacing and cold in his voice that made her want to run, but she stood her ground determinedly, "which leads to my second point…I therefore need someone else to do it, and who better than you?"

"Because getting tortured by a muggleborn girl would be utterly humiliating for him," she finished.

He clapped his hands together, slowly, mockingly and yet not.

"Clever girl," he said, and though she knew he was probably only offering that praise in hopes that she would agree, she couldn't help but dangerously take triumph in the compliment. He was a genius after all.

Nonetheless, her conscience did tweak at the thought of torturing someone, she was just so angry that Lestrange would try to kill Harry.

"I don't know," she hedged, uncertainly. "I don't think Harry would really like it…"

"You'll find Harry often doesn't really like what's good for him - he hates the Hospital Wing, for example, and has many a time tried to escape while injured -" Riddle smiled, more genuinely this time, a glint in eyes that hadn't previously been present, before it was gone and he was taking a step towards her.

His hand was a solid, warm, tingling weight on her upper arm, and he leant forwards slightly as he continued. "

But, take your time, I understand this is a big step for you. Come find me when you've thought it through, okay Hermione? I think we could make a good team on this endeavour."

"Okay…"

She released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding when he turned the corner.

Harry looked up when a figure - Tom, of course, he didn't know why he was ever surprised by that any more - entered his obscure section of the library.

"Bit late for you to be skulking around here, isn't it Golden Boy, you're missing dinner. Have you been here all day since we left your pet lions?"

"Largely," he replied. "Shouldn't you be at dinner yourself?

""You weren't there. It was suspicious," Tom smirked. "Who knows what you were up to…what are you researching so avidly?"

Harry hesitated, and Tom walked closer, flipping his current book around. So sue him, he was looking up the binds and stuff, trying to figure out the mark in the aftermath of it's big reveal.

Tom smirked slightly, glancing at him with a knowing look.

Harry scowled, but didn't say anything in response, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire, extracting the book gently but firmly from the other's grip.

Tom was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, with a different purpose in his voice.

"What you said earlier, did you mean it?"

"What did I say earlier?" Harry asked, but there was an uncomfortable squeezing sensation in his stomach, and he turned a page more intently.

"That you don't belong on the Dark Side," Tom said, with a low hint of menace.

Harry stilled for a second, glancing up, having a feeling that this conversation was the true reason as to why the Slytherin Heir had tracked him down with such apparent urgency to skip a meal.

"Yeah, I meant it," he replied quietly, before discarding his current book in place of another.

The next second, a hand was painfully tight on his shoulder spinning him around, while Tom's other hand rested on the shelf by his head. Harry raised a brow.

"Pinning me against shelves in a darkened library, Tom? People might get the wrong impression if they saw us right now."

"I think we need to clear up a few misconceptions," Tom murmured, dangerously.

"And that involves shoving me against library shelves as if we're about to start kissing…?"Tom's free fingers curled into a fist, furious, violent.

"I can start kissing you if that will get the message through you thick skull, if you really want," Tom snapped. "I don't particularly care what I have to do get you to realise that you belong with the Dark Side, seriously, explain to me the processes of your mind because I can't quite lower myself to the same level of stupidity?"

"What the hell do you mean you can start kissing me!" Harry yelped, mind stuck in panic. "I don't want, by the way!"

Tom scowled, the first curling and uncurling again, the only lack of restraint the young Dark Lord allowed.

"Salazar, you're such a bloody teenager! Don't be so easily distracted, that wasn't the point - why do you think you don't belong on the Dark Side?"

Harry spluttered.

"You were the one who threatened to kiss me! It's not my fault! Why would you - Salazar-"

"Well, it got your attention didn't it?" Tom rolled his eyes, smirking. "Although I didn't realise you'd be going off an annoyingly irrelevant tangent. Question. Answer. Now."

"Because!" Harry said, frustrated. "I'm not a Death Eater. I'm not on the Dark Side or a believer in the Dark Side cause, "It makes absolutely no sense to me why you're bothering with all this, outside of your love of mind games, and my belonging on the Dark Side makes even less sense!"

And with that, Harry felt like wincing at the bluntness of the statement. Tom's grip flexed on his shoulder, his gaze piercing, then he turned thoughtful.

"I'm the leader of the Dark Side, agreed?"

"Agreed…" Harry said warily.

"So it's my prerogative on who belongs on my side, and thus, by extension, the dark side?"

"I-" Harry frowned.

"You're on the Dark side, Golden Boy," Tom stated flatly.

Harry swallowed, but forced a smirk.

"I don't get a choice in that?"

"Nope," Tom said, cheerfully, but there was something serious in his eyes, and something that suggested that this conversation was only temporary stalled, not dealt with.

The moment broke as there was a loud smack and rattle of dropped books at the end of the aisle.

His wand was out in seconds, as was Tom's, before they both blinked.

A fourth year squeaked and scuttled off with wide eyes.

Harry groaned.

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered. "Now people are going to talk even more."

Tom snorted.

"You're far too concerned with public opinion, sweetheart."

A/N: So, it's been an awesome week, and I don't hate this chapter. I call that progress.

Thank you so much for the amazing reviews, I need a stronger word than amazing…phenomenal? Brilliant? Heart-warming? And thanks to who asked to translate this story into Russian! Because that's just totally awesome and thank you! I can't believe you're going to that much effort.

And oh my, I'm almost on 2000 reviews, now. You guys have two major rewards coming up I believe, because I'm almost on 100! Wouldn't it just be fabulous if I had 2000 reviews and 100 chapters? Heee. I go hyper just thinking about that. Anyway. What do you guys want as reward? (Reward returns are of course, welcomed :P)

And, and, guess what? I got my first two Uni Offers! Wooooo!

So, among other things, this week has been brilliant, and you guys attributed too that, strongly. So much appreciation.

I hope you enjoyed the update.