The Dueling Demonstration

January 26, 1945

"Did you see the look on his face?" Mulciber was laughing hysterically.

"Priceless. Absolutely priceless," Dolohov beamed and looked at Tom for his approval.

Their leader nodded, a giant smirk plastered on his face as well.

The rest of the Knights looked equally amused and Tom swelled in pride and satisfaction. His plan had worked nothing short of seamlessly and, as a result, he thought it very unlikely that another mudblood would be foolish enough to try and join Dueling Club.

It all began earlier that week during an impromptu meeting with Dippet and Dumbledore, when they told him he had no choice but to allow that pathetic mudblood scum to attend the next Dueling Club meeting. He had argued the same points he had to Rosemary, but to no avail.

"You'll just have to make an exception this once," they told him.

Tom knew it had been Horton's fault, that she had surely talked to either Dumbledore or Dippet about it after their confrontation, but he supposed it didn't matter all that much. It certainly wasn't worth another interaction with her; after all, he was still reeling a bit from the last time she threw him off so significantly.

Besides, he knew his plan would prove them all wrong and show them that filthy mudbloods were inadequate to participate in dueling. And oh, things had gone exactly to plan!

The club meeting started out like any other, as Tom ran through their practice agenda and made any other announcements. After this, he had given a short offensive spell demonstration. Then it was time for the fun to begin. "With competitions beginning in only a few weeks, today we will have one-on-one practice duels. One pair at a time; I will provide a short critique of your duel when you are finished. Now let's see…who should we see first…Rowle and Yaxley!"

Three duels down and then he announced: "I'm very impressed so far. You've each improved markedly in the past few months. However, I haven't actually seen all of you duel. In fact, we have a newly aspiring duelist among us this evening – say hello to Quentin Ashburn, everyone." He gestured in the direction of the Gryffindor mudblood who waved shyly to the crowd of primarily pureblood Slytherin students standing around him. "Now then, let's see what you've got, Ashburn. Rosier? Go easy on him. But not too easy, of course."

Tom sat amongst the crowd as Rosier and Ashburn took their places on the dueling platform. He could feel the excitement of the Knights around him as they tried to stifle their grins of anticipation. They, of course, knew just as well as he did exactly what was coming.

They fired two or three spells back and forth, Rosier holding back just long enough for Ashburn to gain a bit of confidence. Then, just as Tom predicted, the mudblood tried a trickier spell that clearly exceeded his abilities. As he attempted to recover, Rosier took the opportunity to utter the curse he had practiced with Tom earlier that afternoon.

Seconds later, gasps of surprised escaped from the crowd as Ashburn was knocked back several feet – so far back that he was thrown from the platform. Silence quickly enveloped the Great Hall where they practiced, despite a few scattered coughs here and there from Knights attempting to disguise their laughter.

Tom walked over to him and announced to the others that he had been knocked unconscious. He had even taken the mudblood to the infirmary, to keep up appearances, of course. And he had waited there, until the mudblood woke up.

"What happened?" he had asked Tom.

Tom smirked, relishing the moment: "Not everyone is cut out for Dueling Club; that's all."

Later that night, he met with the Knights to celebrate their victory. "As you see," he began, "We are unstoppable, so long as we act with our ideals in mind!"

This was met with considerable applause.

He hesitated, debating whether or not he should even bring up what he was going to next, worrying that it might detract from their recent victory. However, in his elation he was unable to help himself: "It is with this dedication that I believe we will transition our efforts to Grindelwald's forces."

There was a half second of silence following in words, in which he worried he had made an awful mistake of bringing it up. But then, as though his words had taken just a few seconds longer than usual to travel the room, the Knights slowly erupted in applause.

Unfortunately, as sweet as this victory was, it was just as proportionately short.

"Good afternoon, Tom. Have a seat," Dumbledore greeted him soberly the following evening.

The old wizard studied his face for a moment when he sat and Tom responded by dialing up his Occlumency efforts to their maximal degree, rightfully paranoid by the events of the evening prior. "How can I help you, Professor?"

"It appears that Dueling Club is getting a bit out of hand, Tom."

"A bit out of hand?" Tom echoed, looking at him in disbelief. "With all due respect, Sir –" (though truly, there was no respect actually due) "–a minor injury is not exactly uncommon in dueling. Just last year, Markus Avery was in the infirmary for three full days after suffering a particularly impressive blasting curse."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "If I remember correctly, the blasting curse came from your wand."

"That is completely beside the point," Tom said, as he attempted to hide an arrogant smirk, remembering that particular evening of Dueling Club. His aggravation had been sparked earlier that afternoon, when Rosemary informed him of Markus' previous boasts regarding the conquering of her delectable body. That was also the day that his intimacy with her had reached new bounds: while they had not yet reached the comfort of unadulterated exploration of each other's bodies, it was the first time he had truly allowed himself to lose control in her presence. It felt so close, so remarkably intimate – and, looking back now, so innocent. How would he have known that in just a few weeks, he would become so excessively addicted to the way her flesh felt under his fingertips, the picturesque anatomy of her womanhood, the maddeningly erotic noises she made at seemingly every motion he made…?

What, exactly, was his point again? Oh, right: his revenge toward Markus on her behalf.

Dumbledore snapped him out of these thoughts, which, due to his now-half-aroused state, he was surprisingly somewhat grateful for. After all, these unconstructive thoughts of Rosemary had no place in his rehabilitated mind. The last thing he needed was for her to poison his good senses again. If his last encounter with her was any indication, he needed to stay away from her. Far, far away.

"Given the current political climate, it was difficult enough to convince parents to allow their children to return to Hogwarts this term. If we cannot guarantee the safety of our students within these walls...well, I'm afraid that we will have no choice but to inform them that we have failed to uphold our promise in this regard. As Head Boy, I'm sure you appreciate the gravity of this situation…" He waited for Tom to acknowledge this last statement, but when he was simply met with a blank stare, he continued: "Unfortunately, this means that we have no choice but to suspend Dueling Club, at least until the ongoing threats of the outside world are finally resolved."

"What?" Tom asked sharply. "You can't be serious…It was one accident!"

"An accident that, due to the pressing issues of today, is certain to strike a chord. The issue of blood status is more taboo than ever, Tom. If the press were to get word of this, or any of the other blood-related incidents of these past few months, Hogwarts' reputation would suffer tremendously. We must do what we can to minimize this damage while the discriminatory efforts against muggle-born remain at large. I'm afraid that this means the suspension of Dueling Club. Unless, of course, you have anything you wish to share in this regard?"

"What do you think I have to share?" Tom challenged him, placing so much effort into Occlumency at this point that he could hardly process the words emitting from his own lips.

"I wouldn't have the first thought as to what you might share," the old man said with an air of innocence that Tom wouldn't have bought in a million years. "A few of your housemates that you seem to be quite well-acquainted with are suspected for the discriminatory events that occurred earlier this term."

Tom wasn't sure what came over him in the next moment: was it was the fact that Dueling Club was getting shut down, the nerve of Dumbledore to essentially tie him to the anti-mudblood effort, or some combination of both? Regardless, he found himself in the midst of a sudden outburst: "Discriminatory? Do you want to know what I think is discriminatory? The fact that those of my house are blamed for every single problem in Hogwarts. And even if they were involved, why would they ever tell me, given my position?" He glared at the professor and stood to leave, worried that his sheer rage might puncture a hole in the bubble of his Occlumency that hid the truth behind his thoughts. "Well, I certainly hope you enjoy answering to the parents of children who are incapable of defending themselves after leaving Hogwarts."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "There is no reason to worry, Tom. I have given my utmost efforts to ensure that the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum is more than adequate to prepare our students for whatever they may encounter in the future."

"It's hardly adequate," Tom snorted, unable to restrain himself from taking such an easy shot at the ancient fool.

The professor stood and moved around his desk so that they were standing eye to eye. "Give it a few days' time to fully sink in, Tom. The loss of that which we covet is never a painless undertaking." The way that the old man's eyes sparkled as he said this comment was not only in reference to Dueling Club, but to Rosemary as well.

Bastard.

Without another word, Tom strode briskly to the door and let himself out, pulling it shut rather forcefully behind him.

Dueling Club was over. Gone. A product of years of dedication that was now meaningless. He was boiling in rage and was at an absolute loss of what to do. His dark thoughts immediately consumed him. It wasn't until he saw a flash of dark red hair that he was shaken out of his mind and realized he had been pacing around the castle for a good twenty minutes.

He watched Rosemary enter Myrtle's bathroom and a slow smirk crept onto his face. Apparently, being in the right place at the right time was his new talent.

"So are you going to tell me what you're brewing yet?" Myrtle asked her as she flew in circles a few feet above Rose.

Rosemary rolled up her sleeves as she poured a jar of dried lacewing flies. "I'd rather not."

"Well, I'd rather not share my bathroom when I don't even have the first clue what's going on," Myrtle said testily.

Rosemary bit her lip. During her first brewing session in the second-floor girls' bathroom, she had successfully evaded Myrtle's questioning in this regard. But now Rose wondered if asking for Myrtle's help at all had been a rather significant mistake. The ghost seemed completely incapable of keeping her mouth shut, quite the opposite of the shy, mousy girl that she had been in life.

But what choice did she have, now that she had made a commitment to Jasper and had already sent him a trial that he was quite impressed with?

"This stays between us," Rosemary eyed the ghost.

"Well, obviously. Isn't that part of the deal?"

Rosemary sighed as she began plucking the wings off the flies and adding them to the bubbling cauldron, one by one, waiting until the liquid turned bluish-green. "Have you heard of ECB, Myrtle?"

"No. What is it?"

"It's sort of a…stimulant. Well, sometimes at least. It's really a quite functional." Despite the gravity of what she was confessing, she couldn't help but feel at least a bit of pride in her work. Jasper had told her that her very first batch had alleviated one of more serious side effects. She wasn't quite sure how he knew this: if he was testing it himself, or was testing it on someone else. Regardless, receiving this news had made her feel the best that she had in a long time. She knew what she was doing was wrong at its core, but at least she was helping people. It felt like the most productive thing she had done in months. And she was good at it.

Myrtle's jaw dropped in shock. "Rosemary Horton? Brewing drugs? I never – you're Head Girl!"

"This stays between us," she repeated warningly.

A look of near-pain spread across Myrtle's face, probably realizing how difficult it would be to keep such a juicy secret. Thankfully for Rose, nobody else ever visited Myrtle.

She was hoping that the ghost would drop it, then, and allow her to continue working, but she was not so lucky: "Why are you doing it?" she asked plainly.

Rosemary opened her mouth to respond and it was then that she realized she didn't really have a legitimate answer to this question. To ensure that students were using a safer version of it sure. But beyond that? Part of her wondered if maybe it was just for the thrill of the rush. After all, since Warren had replaced Tom in her life, very little felt like a "rush" any longer. Part of her wondered if she was addicted to the sort of unhealthy adrenaline she had grown so accustomed to while dating Tom. Did brewing this potion represent one of her last fixes as she prepared to graduate and assume the tedious roles of adulthood? Then came the scary thought: what if this fix wasn't enough? What if she wasn't ready to grow up?

She quickly shooed these thoughts from her mind, given that they weren't particularly helpful in answering Myrtle's question. "It's a favor for an old friend," she finally decided on.

Of course, the questions wouldn't stop there:

What friend?

Where are you getting the ingredients?

Are they paying you?

How do you know what changes to make to improve the potion?

And on and on and on and on….

'If she keeps up like this,' Rose thought, 'I will have to take ECB just to stay sane while brewing ECB.'

She had just stepped out of the bath when she heard a brisk knock at her door. Warren? He had mentioned stopping by that night.

"One moment!" she yelled, hurriedly running a comb through her hair and throwing on a silk robe. She typically didn't dress so scantily when she knew he was coming over, but she was probably just going to tell him that she was too tired to spend time with him that night anyway. Her conversation with Myrtle had been quite taxing, after all.

She opened the door to see Tom standing in the corridor, glaring at her. Rosemary, suddenly quite self-conscious at her lack of proper clothing, pulled the top of her robe closed just a little more. "Evening, Riddle."

Apparently there was no time for niceties: "You have some nerve, Horton," he snarled. "You told Dippet, didn't you? Or Dumbledore?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked him nervously. It had been a long time since she had seen him this angry. In fact, this was perhaps the most furious he had ever been around her.

"Like you don't know," he said snidely, stepping close enough to her that she took a step away from him and felt the doorframe against her back. "Last week – that mudblood that wanted to get into Dueling Club?"

She shook her head. "No. I didn't say anything."

But she had, of course…and maybe she should have said more. She suddenly remembered earlier that year, when Dumbledore told her to come to him if Tom was giving her any problems. And really, this couldn't be more true – he essentially was all of her problems. The terrifying look he was giving her certainly made her question her silence on the matter.

"Liar," he hissed, moving even closer and glaring intensely down his nose at her. She suddenly felt quite small, dwarfed by both his height and the terrifying things that she knew he was capable of. It was at this moment that she realized just how cold the corridor apparently was and grew even more self-conscious when she felt her erect nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her robe. She crossed her arms over her chest as he continued, thankfully appearing not to notice: "You just had to interfere. It's entirely your fault that Dueling Club is being disbanded."

She didn't know what to say, but she was afraid that being dishonest with him would only continue to make him angrier. Rosemary sighed, trying to force her voice to sound calm: "Tom, I don't know what to tell you. They would have found out anyway…It was the right thing to do."

"Yes, you're a fucking saint." He looked at her in such disgust, such deep loathing, that she almost started to cry. Just a few months prior, she never would have anticipated him looking at her this way, or saying something so uncalled for to her. What did he even mean by it? She didn't know. All she knew was that she was angry. Very angry.

And then she realized just how tired of his bullshit she was – tired of everyone (including herself and her friends) walking on eggshells around him. She was tired of his arrogance, tired of the fact that he always won. Tired of him treating her like shit just because she ended things with him.

Without a second's though, she snapped: "Actually, I'd say this is all the fault of your friends, due to their inability to control their magic. I guess all that time spent in Dueling Club didn't teach them that much after all."

He was so shocked that he let out a slight laugh. "Excuse me?"

In the back of her mind, she knew she should stop, but finally telling him off felt far too satisfying. "Oh, and I know you're jealous of my relationship with Warren, but you'll just have to get over it. It's a nice change, being with someone that the majority of Hogwarts isn't terrified of."

"Do you honestly think that I'm jealous of that pathetic excuse of–"

She cut him off: "And while we're on the topic, I want my old friends back."

Oh Merlin, Rose, stop…

Her mouth, however, appeared to be disconnected from her mind, acting entirely on its own accord. "I know they haven't been speaking to me because they don't want to cross you, but I'm absolutely sick of it. It's pointless anyway – I already know everything that you've been up to."

Was it just her imagination, or was he looking at her like he might want to give an Unforgivable a try?

He looked taken aback for a fraction of a second, until his mouth twisted into a smirk. He spoke slowly, as if every syllable had been meticulously calculated: "You know, Miss Horton, I would be very, very careful if I were you. After all, you've seen that I'm quite proficient with memory charms. Although, I doubt I'll have any need to use one on you...I'm well-aware of the secrets you'd probably like to keep. Particularly in regard to your little hobby…Drugs, Horton? Really?"

Her heart beat picked up. How did he know?

At first she wondered if Myrtle had told him. But then she remembered last week, when he had looked at her eyes for just a second too long and she knew what had actually happened: legilimency.

She swallowed, immediately regretting her impulsive outburst. "Is that a threat?"

"You can call it whatever you like. Let me make things even simpler for you to understand: stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours."

"Stronger than lover's love is lover's hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make." ― Euripides

Thank you to RosiePosie15, Oksanallex, NanamiYatsumaki, Queentakesjack, Guest, Guest, gr8rockstarrox, Guest, and Blerb for your reviews! I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to replying to them yet - that is first on my to-do list tomorrow morning. I just got in from a day's worth of traveling without Wi-Fi and wanted to get this chapter up ASAP. I would have posted last night and responded to everyone's comments if I could have, but there were some serious hiccups in our travel plans.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! More to come soon - and you can bet that I'm going to make it fairly difficult for Rose and Tom to stay out of each other's way.(;

In addition to my lovely reviewers, thank you so much to all of you that have favorited/followed! Your readership means sooo much to me.(: