Red Flag
January 30, 1945
When they arrived in Potions on Tuesday morning, Slughorn stood at the front of the classroom looking oddly pleased with himself. "I have only one announcement this morning –" he started, "– one that may excite the great majority of you: we will not be brewing in class today!"
As expected, there was an excited murmur amongst the class and a few students even broke into applause. Tom rolled his eyes. Why did these dolts even come to Hogwarts if they didn't want to learn anything? What unappreciative gits. Despite these feelings, he couldn't help but be at least somewhat appreciative of the fact that he wouldn't have to spend yet another class period brewing with Horton in their stubborn silence.
"Instead, this weekend you will work with your partner to brew a replica of the renowned Skele-Gro potion! You will find the modified Bone-Regrowth Potion on page six-hundred and twelve of your textbooks."
His insides churned uncomfortably at this twist of fate. Apparently, he and Rosemary would not be staying out of each other's way as much as he had previously anticipated. To at least a small part of him, this was quite troubling. What if she tried to stand up to him again? He only had so much to use against her now that she was aware of his secret (though, thankfully, she remained naïve of the others). He had sacrificed far too much power in their truce of the weekend prior and this made him uneasy. Clearly, he would have to think of some way to get her back under his control and neutralize the threat she now posed.
"My stores will open at eight a.m. on Saturday morning for you to come and retrieve the necessary ingredients and your completed potion will be due in my office at eight a.m. this coming Monday. While forty-eight hours may seem like a considerable amount of time to complete this assignment, I highly caution against putting it off. This is a very labor intensive, challenging potion. It is also the brew on which ten percent of your mark this term is based."
There was a concerned grumble across the class at this last bit and, out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw Rosemary shift uncomfortably in the seat next to him. He doubted that this was because of the importance potion in their overall course grade so much as a concern over working with him. He smirked in satisfaction; apparently he had sufficiently scared her. Perhaps he needn't worry so much over whether or not she would stay out of his way.
"I will be giving you the rest of class today to work with your partner to prepare for your assignment: decide where to brew it, look over the recipe, et cetera."
With that the class broke into conversation, the majority of it being complaints over the assignment. At least thirty seconds passed in which Tom and Rosemary said nothing, as though they had suddenly entered a contest of sheer will-power in which neither of them wanted to be the first to speak to the other.
However, as the seconds ticked by, Tom grew impatient. He had better things to do than play games. But just when he began to open his mouth, she said:
"I'll take care of it, Riddle." She spoke in a distant voice, her eyes glued to Advanced Potion-Making, studying the assigned recipe.
"What are you talking about?" he narrowed his eyes.
She looked up at their professor and then said to Tom quietly: "Well, it's not as though Slughorn would know if we didn't work on it together…"
He scoffed. "And place the fate of ten percent of my Potion mark in your hands? I'd rather not."
She didn't appear to be all that surprised at his objection. "Saturday morning, then?"
"I have Tournament training this Saturday. Didn't Dippet speak to you about covering my rounds?"
"How could I forget?" Horton gave him an annoyed look. "Saturday evening?"
"I have a prior engagement."
"Let me guess, a meeting with your gang?" Rosemary narrowed her eyes this time, dropping her voice again to a near-whisper. "Can't you put it off so we can get this over with?"
He gave her a threatening look that read: 'Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.'
She sighed. "Sunday morning?" After a moment's pause she added sassily: "Oh wait, I can't – I'm working my actual Head Girl rounds then."
He knew he should move his meeting with the Knights – it would be as easy as telling them a new time, after all – but there was no way that he was going to do anything that would bring any sort of satisfaction to Horton. Even if it meant risking their performance on the potion (not that it was really a gamble, anyway – as the best students in the class, he was fairly certain that even their worst attempt would be better than any other pair's best). "Sunday evening it is, then. Six o'clock?"
"Unbelievable," she muttered, throwing her potions book in her bag somewhat aggressively. "Slughorn just told us not to wait until the last minute. And according to the recipe, it's going to take four hours minimum once everything is in the cauldron."
A small smirk appeared on his face as he was rather amused at her distress. "I suppose we'll just have to get it right the first time then, won't we?"
She gave him a defeated look. "Where are we brewing it?"
"The classroom?"
"That's what everyone is going to do. I mean, do you really want to have to answer every other pair's questions when we have our own brew to worry about?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder and said this in a snotty tone that irritated him to no end, as though her statement had been completely obvious. Even if it had been obvious, he still loathed it. No one deserved to speak to him in such a way, least of all Horton.
She was right, though, and this was the most loathsome reality of all.
"Alright," he gritted his teeth, wondering why every moment he spent interacting with her had to be so entirely agonizing. "My room. Sunday. Six o'clock. I'll pick up the ingredients that morning while you finish your rounds." He gave her a withering glare as she opened her mouth to respond to him, likely to protest that they would be brewing in his dormitory. She would just have to get over it, given that he was entirely unwilling to brew in her dormitory or, Merlin forbid, the mudblood's haunted bathroom that he was suspected Horton may have suggested if given the opportunity.
"Fine," she said sharply; apparently, she had picked up on the fact that it would be foolish to continue arguing with him. This was fortunate, as his patience for their conversation had faded quickly and he was absolutely through debating with her over any aspect of the project.
Slughorn was standing at the door to the classroom when Tom went to leave. They exchanged nods of acknowledgement and then, so quickly that Tom could have easily missed it, Slughorn sent him a wink.
This perplexed him at first, but as Tom stepped past Slughorn and into the corridor, he knew exactly what had happened: the professor had assigned this project as a favor. A chance for Tom and Horton to spend time together. Clearly, the professor thought that Tom and Rosemary were still sneaking around and that her relationship with Warren was merely a continuation of their ruse.
Tom clenched his jaw at this realization, wondering why Slughorn was so insistent upon meddling in his personal affairs. Though of course, Tom would have appreciated the professor as his ally in essentially any other capacity. He briefly considered whether or not he should tell Slughorn that things between himself and Rosemary had ended, but quickly dismissed the thought. As much as the Potions Master adored Tom, he also adored Horton – what if informing him created a hitch in the rapport Tom had built? Besides that, he may just assume Tom was lying anyway in order to protect their secret.
Perhaps Slughorn would figure it out on his own and if not, it didn't really matter all that much anyway. The professor's capacity to stick them together was limited to their work involving Potions and Tom supposed he could manage dealing with Horton for just a few excruciating hours per week. If nothing else, it could provide him with another venue to put her in her place.
'Yes,' he thought optimistically. That was what he should focus on: finding some way to show her that he was the one in control and that he had more leverage over her than she did over him. To get her out of the way, once and for all. Besides, if all else failed, he could use this opportunity alone with her to simply erase her memory.
"You are a manipulator."
"I like to think of myself more as an outcome engineer."
― J.R. Ward
On Sunday morning, Rosemary took the seat next to Faye at the Ravenclaw table and poured herself a cup of tea. "Good morning," she greeted her blonde friend sleepily.
"Good morning," Faye chirped, scanning through her newest copy of Which Witch? "Did you know that Fiona Gobbsmacker and Curtis Ellingsway were expecting? Apparently, she's already three months in!"
"It must have been off my radar," Rose said dryly. She, unlike Faye, had always considered tabloids to be a great waste of time and paper. "How did your potion with Rebecca turn out?"
"Oh, atrociously," Faye grinned. "You know Becca – the only reason she is even in seventh-year Potions is because the practical portion of the N.E.W.T. happened to be on the one potion she could somewhat successfully brew."
Rosemary would have asked why they hadn't bothered to redo it, but she already knew the answer: it was pointless. With Faye's engagement and surely an upcoming proposal for Becca by Markus, their grades no longer mattered. Soon, the already-slim chance that they would ever have to use the magic they learned in a job setting would become zero. Of course, this realization brought back that same question that loomed in the back of her mind like a storm cloud just waiting to roll in: how long would it be until her grades no longer mattered, either?
"How about you and Riddle? Have you started yet?"
'No. Not until this evening." Then she lowered her voice so the Ravenclaws sitting a few seats away from them couldn't hear: "Apparently, he had a meeting last night that was far too important to postpone."
"Oh that?" Faye waved her hand. "They met for about twenty minutes and then came downstairs to have a few shots for Antonin Dolohov's birthday."
"Are you serious?" she asked angrily. "Merlin, Faye, I don't know how I'll make it through tonight without completely losing it – he's bloody insufferable!"
"Well, you're not the only one under stress," Faye announced suddenly. "Our wedding planner sent me a catalog this morning of bridesmaid dresses that are so far out of season, my mum used one of the styles in her wedding! You would not believe the nerve of these people!" She slammed the booklet down on the table in front of Rosemary for emphasis.
"Yes, Faye, dealing with an old-fashioned wedding planner is far more stressful than constantly being around your ex that is, as it turns out, a mad-person." Rosemary's voice dripped with sarcasm as she paged through the catalog and tossed it back to her friend.
"Oh, brighten up!" Faye sighed dramatically. "It could be worse. At least you have me now."
Rose smiled as Faye pinched her arm. It was true – she was extremely grateful to be able to speak to her best friend again. She hadn't yet tested the waters on Rebecca, Markus, and Adam, figuring she should be at least a bit cautious just in case it drove Riddle to find some loophole in their stalemate and render her friendless once more.
"I have to say, I'm quite impressed…standing up to Tom Riddle: you're one brave soul."
"I suppose. Or just stupid."
"Equally likely," Faye nodded in agreement. "Though I wasn't going to mention that."
After breakfast, Rosemary spent a couple of hours in the library finishing an essay for Transfigurations and then began her rounds. She dreaded the hours ahead of her: given that it was Sunday and the majority of the student body was holed up in their dormitories or the library finishing their weekend assignments, she knew that her rounds would be largely uneventful. Of course, there was another part of her that was quite thankful of the fact that she could put off working with Riddle for just a bit longer.
She began on the top floor of the castle and methodically began working her way to the dungeons, one floor at a time. As she traversed the seemingly endless corridors, her mind inevitably began to wander.
First she thought of that conversation with Faye – in particular, that irritating bit about Tom and what he had actually been up to the night prior. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was putting off their project to meet with his group of delinquents, most of the time had been spent partying. Oh, the nerve! He had probably spent half the night snogging one (or more) of his Slytherin fangirls.
A sudden flare of anger consumed her; at first she thought it was because of his stubbornness to rearrange his schedule and accommodate their assignment, but she felt something else gnawing at her as well. She pondered it for a few moments, but couldn't quite place her finger on it. Surely she wasn't jealous. She'd have to be completely mad to be jealous of any poor girl that fell for his charming façade. But that wasn't it either: if she was simply angry that others couldn't see through him, that certainly wouldn't explain the bursts of irrational anger that she had felt over the past few weeks toward any of the Slytherin girls she suspected Tom had messed around with.
It definitely wasn't jealousy, though. That was just ridiculous.
She spent the rest of her rounds attempting to get Riddle out of her head. Just in time for her to make her way to Tom's dormitory and spend several hours with him, of course. It was seconds after this realization that she looked up and spotted Warren heading her way.
"I thought I might find you here," he smiled and pecked her on the lips as they met in the middle of the corridor. "I wanted to say hello before I left for practice, considering I've hardly seen you this weekend."
Rosemary gave him an apologetic look. "I have been quite busy, especially after covering Riddle's rounds."
"I know." He nodded and smiled, but looked somewhat bothered.
"Is something wrong?" she asked him, though she already had a fairly good idea of what it might be. Warren had been acting off all week, ever since Slughorn had assigned the potion.
He ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose I'm alright," he said. "I'm just worried about you."
"Why?" she asked, suddenly confused.
"Well, I don't know…working with Riddle and all. I could skip practice, come with you, and work on a few things for other classes while you and he brew the potion…"
Since when did Warren know that Tom was dangerous? Her heart beat suddenly picked up as she wondered whether or not Warren had any idea of what Tom did to him. But how? Tom had quite carefully erased his memory of the event. She decided to test the waters: "I don't think he'd do anything to harm me, do you?"
Warren looked away from her face. "No, I don't think he'd harm you. I'm just worried he'll make you uncomfortable."
Rosemary was relieved that Warren still appeared to be clueless about the incident. With this worry off her mind, she was actually able to appreciate the sweetness of Warren's thoughtfulness toward her. Only she didn't see it as sweet – she thought of it as clingy and somewhat possessive. And she couldn't help but think that part of him didn't trust her to be alone with Tom. Truthfully, she onlywished she could see Warren's gesture as sweet.
It was a feeling that she was beginning to recognize more and more with him. Why did every goddamn thing he did annoy her to such vast ends? Even though he was, theoretically at least, the perfect boyfriend? She kept telling herself that this feeling of exasperation was just part of figuring out a new relationship: she had to get used to his quirks, just like he had to get used to hers. But when did it end? When was the cut-off point to decide that she would be unable to adapt to his style of companionship? They had already been together for a month...
But things were getting better, weren't they? Now that he was busy with Quidditch and she was busy with her secret brewing, they rarely saw each other. Even given this apparent improvement, she couldn't help but consider her lackluster attitude toward spending time with him as a bit of a red flag.
Though spending time with him in Tom's presence seemed like the biggest red flag of all.
"I'm sure everything will be alright. Thank you for offering, Warren," she told him politely. "I really should be going."
He nodded somewhat hesitantly. "Alright."
Rosemary smiled and was about to walk past him when he suddenly put his hands on her waist and pulled her close to him, crashing his lips against hers. The kiss felt desperate, as though he thought she would surely go running back to Tom that night if he didn't express his passion for her that very second.
She hadn't even realized that she had pushed him away until she saw a hurt look flash across his eyes. Rose scrambled rapidly for a way to justify herself and, with a stroke of genius, hissed: "Warren! Not while I'm on Head Girl duty!"
The look of pain quickly vanished and was replaced with his eyes' usual playful gleam. "Apologies, Rosemary. You should know by now how difficult it is for me to resist you."
Yes, she certainly did, didn't she? Every time they were alone he seemed to be attempting to move things along at a faster pace, though not at an entirely unreasonable rate. Judging from how quickly things had moved with Tom, Warren should have seen her clothes-less about a hundred times by now. In reality, he had been remarkably patient over the last month but even that had felt too fast for Rosemary. Maybe she just wanted to take her time, really get to know someone before another relationship came crashing down in a fiery mess. Or maybe, it was just another red flag.
His door was cracked slightly when she arrived. She knocked twice before pushing it open to see Tom sitting at his desk, reading his Potions textbook. He looked up at her reproachfully when she walked in. "You're late."
"Sorry, I ran into my boyfriend near the end of my rounds," she said in her sweetest voice, watching for a satisfying gleam of jealousy to pass over his eyes. Sadly, it never came. She knew it was a petty stab, but didn't he deserve it after acting so stubborn over his schedule? The fact that he would rather potentially tarnish his reputation in Potions than agree to accommodate her very reasonable wishes to get the assignment out of the way as quickly as possible truly showed how much he loathed her.
"No problem," he said coolly before gesturing to the cauldron set up in the middle of his room with the twenty or so required ingredients stacked neatly near it. "Everything is ready to go. Shall we trade off steps as usual?"
She nodded, rather surprised at his formality toward her given the nature of their recent confrontations. Perhaps, like her, he just wanted to get the brew over with in the least painful way possible. Rose was thankful regardless of the true reason behind this temporary cease-fire.
They worked together in silence for a half hour or so, prepping what ingredients they could in advance. Regardless of their failure to get along on a personal level, they found themselves falling into their usual, efficient flow. The truth of the matter was that they were excellent Potions partners – certainly more so than Rosemary cared to admit.
Two-hours later, they had surpassed the labor-intensive steps of the potion – now, they essentially just had to kill time and let it brew, with a stir or minor addition here and there. Thankfully, she had brought a stack of textbooks with her to keep her occupied. Riddle had the same idea, apparently. She watched as he crossed his room, sat in his desk chair, and got to work on other things.
Rosemary shifted uncomfortably on the floor where she sat and glared at the back of his head in annoyance. He could have at least offered her a chair. But it was best not to complain: the last thing she wanted to do was disrupt the careful semblance of armistice they had created.
Minute after minute after minute ticked by. Both of them moved only once or twice an hour to ensure that the potion was coming together properly and the blanket of silence that had formed in the room the moment they started brewing had yet to be lifted. Instead, it seemed to become thicker and more suffocating by the second. Rosemary soon found herself thinking more about the silence than of her readings.
It was maddening. So much so that she was almost tempted to break their temporary neutrality and initiate their bickering all over again. It occurred to her that it felt incredibly odd to be in the same room as Tom, the one who she had considered her best friend just a few months prior, and sitting in absolute silence. She had always enjoyed their conversations: they were exciting, engaging. Rosemary loved the fact that he could keep pace with her in this regard. Plus, Tom almost always had something interesting to say. From an intellectual standpoint, they had been a great match.
'Unlike with Warren…' she heard that pestering voice in the back of her head mutter.
Rose pushed this from her mind for now, allowing her thoughts to wander into very dangerous territory: reminiscence. She decided that she was so beyond bored that she would take her chances.
She traveled back to her previous thoughts. It was true: she really had considered him her best friend. Even more than Faye. Not only had they spent hour upon hour talking, she had learned so much from him: the basics of dueling, how to stand up for herself, how to be deeply intimate with someone…
This all felt so long ago, though she supposed this was to be expected. After all, it was prior to the discovery of who he really was. Along these same lines, how did she know if she had ever actuallybeen deeply intimate with him? Had she just been close to the person he had sold to her? When did the Tom she thought she knew end and the Tom she failed to recognize begin? Was there any sort of overlap? Could she have caught it earlier?
If she had, and she somehow learned to accept it, would they still be together?
Apparently, she had allowed herself to get a bit too carried away with her nostalgia: when she finally snapped back to reality, it was five minutes past when she should have added the chopped Flibbertub Worms. Her heart began to pound as she hurried to add them before Tom noticed, stirring them in quickly to the bubbling, grey liquid. She picked up their Potions textbook and looked at the footnote that corresponded to the Flibbertub step:
89. Mixture should be semi-gelatinous, dark green after addition
Rosemary held her breath and looked down at the potion: light blue. She grimaced, a feeling of dread ballooning inside her which increased exponentially when she glanced at the clock on the wall on his dormitory and realized it was nearly midnight already.
What was she going to do? She ruined it! And all because she was thinking of him! It wasn't as though this was a potion that she could easily salvage, especially not at such a final stage. Her heart beat even faster when she realized that she would need to tell Riddle what happened. But would she dare to tell him that it was she who had made the mistake? It wasn't as if he could actually know– well unless, of course, he read her mind. Though she supposed she would rather take that chance than tell him outright…
"This isn't right," she finally announced.
"What are you talking about?" He looked instantly panicked, essentially falling out of his desk chair before lunging across the room and snatching the copy of Advanced Potion-Making from her hands. If she hadn't been so distraught over the current situation, she might have laughed at such uncharacteristic clumsiness.
She watched as he began studying the recipe. After a couple of glances between their brew and the book, he said plainly: "Fuck."
Will Tom figure out that it was Rosemary who botched the first batch? Will their temporary armistice last or will one (or both) of them fold under pressure? Will Tom and Rose finish the potion in time?! You'll find out all this and much, much more next chapter!
A huge thank you to all of you that took the time to review: Blerb, Guest, Oksanallex, Guest, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, NanamiYatsumaki, RosiePosie15, Owlofthenight, Guest, marly4077, Guest, x2leoj, Guest, and Guest! :D
Happy holidays to all my lovely readers! Thank you so much for making this fic such a rewarding experience to write!(: