White Flag?

February 5, 1945

12:22 a.m.

They strode quietly through the corridors on the way to Slughorn's stores to gather more supplies. They were out far past curfew and though they were Head Girl and Boy, she knew that they would still get into trouble if someone happened to catch them. She was thankful when they reached the stores without event.

Things had been completely silent between them since realizing that they would need to re-brew the potion in their already exhausted states. Unfortunately, this changed soon after Tom closed the door behind them and they started gathering the ingredients for a second batch.

She was reaching for the glass jar that held dried newt tails when she felt Tom's eyes watching her carefully. Suddenly, he asked: "Do you know where things went wrong?" She was surprised that his tone contained only a small air of accusation.

Rose was about to shake her head, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Once again, there was no point in lying to him. Perhaps she would even avoid flaring his temper if she just came right out with it – after all, he seemed to be relatively calm at this point. "I added the Flibbertub worms a few minutes too late," she admitted quietly as she removed the lid of the jar of newt tails and removed two.

Then she looked up at Tom and saw him glaring at her intensely. So much for avoiding his temper. "Unbelievable…I turn my back for one second and you find a way to ruin it," he snarled.

Really, did he have to be such a git about it?

"Well, if we wouldn't have started at the last minute, we wouldn't be in this situation now would we?" she snapped back. She considered confronting him about the fact that he had apparently been partying the night before, but thought better of it. The last thing she wanted was for Faye to face Tom's wrath.

Her instincts in this case seemed to serve her well, as an even more menacing glare appeared on his face. She imagined it would have been far worse if she had dared to mention his partying. "You did this on purpose, didn't you? To retaliate after I wouldn't reschedule my meeting yesterday evening? I warned you to stay out of my way, Horton..."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous – of course I didn't do it on purpose! This counts for as much as my Potions mark as it does for yours." Growing angry at his accusation, she added in a snarky tone: "And for your information, if I did something out of revenge you would know. Trust me."

Tom looked taken aback for a moment but then his mouth suddenly twisted into his trademark smirk. "Do you think I'm scared of you, Miss Horton?" As he spoke, he began to walk toward her. She stood her ground, even when their faces were less than a foot apart. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that it is you who should be afraid of me."

Her heart beat fast in her chest and it pumped even faster when he raised a thin finger to her chin and tilted it up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "Well?" he asked her in a silky, terrifying voice.

'That escalated quickly,' she thought. As she debated how to respond to him, she felt her emotions split in a pattern similar to the last few times she had dealt with him: should she stand up to him and show him that he couldn't always win? Or should she keep her mouth shut and trust the part of her brain that concerned itself with her wellbeing?

This time the sensible part of her won over the impulsive one. Of course, a major factor in this decision was the fact that they would be spending several more hours together in an enclosed space.

"Yes, you made that clear," she told him, looking away as he dropped his finger from her chin.

She didn't look at him again as they finished gathering the ingredients from Slughorn's stores, but heard the smirk in his voice when he answered, "Good."

1:17 a.m.

Rosemary's mouth opened into a large yawn as she stirred the cauldron and she looked up to see Tom rubbing his eyes. She sighed. If they both stayed up all night brewing the second batch, how would either of them make it through the full day of classes ahead? Unfortunately, judging from her last interaction with Tom just minutes prior, they would be pulling a near all-nighter:

"We can sleep in shifts, Riddle," she had told him. "I'm perfectly capable of managing the potion on my own."

"Well, you weren't two hours ago. So you'll have to pardon my skepticism on the matter." His voice was arrogant and it agitated her to no end.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath as her face turned scarlet.

"What was that?" he asked, giving her an almost amused look.

"Nothing." Rose backed down again, uninterested in another confrontation like the one that had taken place in the corridor earlier that morning.

And that was it. There would be no sleep for either of them.

3:46 a.m.

A little more than halfway through the brew, she ran out of homework to finish for other classes. Rosemary considered reading ahead in a few of her textbooks, but worried she might begin to doze off as she was beginning to feel incredibly exhausted at this point.

It was Tom's turn to mind the potion, so she let her thoughts wander, cautious to keep them as far away from him as possible. Instead, she thought about Warren, but grew instantly irritated when she thought of their most recent interaction and that worried look on his face. Then her mind shifted to her brewing ECB for Jasper, Myrtle's companionship, and the dilemma of whether or not she should inform Faye of what she was up to. This had been yet another source of stress as of late.

Realizing she had little to think of that didn't cause herself stress, she gave up on allowing her mind to wander. Suddenly, she found herself watching Tom discreetly while he worked.

Even in her dislike of him, she had to admit that he was quite attractive with his tall frame, dark hair and eyes, and handsome facial structure. Girls had always swarmed to him for a reason, after all. Then she began to wonder if he had snogged anyone last night at the party and an irrational rush of unpleasant feelings (which were most definitely not jealousy) flooded over her. Was he actually dating any of them? Gwen Carrow, perhaps? She had wanted to ask Faye but didn't, worried that she might come off as a bit too interested in her ex.

Out of both curiosity and immense boredom, she quickly devised a plan to find out. She knew it would undoubtedly instigate yet another bickering match between them, but she simply couldn't help herself: "So I overheard Carrow telling her friends that the two of you are going steady now." It was a lie, albeit a very plausible one.

He looked up from the cauldron and gave her a look of amusement. "What if I am, Horton? Are you jealous?"

"No," she laughed with incredulity, hoping that he wouldn't see through her. "There's no need to worry about that. My boyfriend makes me perfectly happy."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow and said pointedly: "You aren't bored?"

"What are you talking about? Of course not." She swallowed, knowing that he saw through her lie yet again.

"Oh come now, Horton. You can't fool me…"

She was getting so fucking tired of constantly worrying whether or not he was inside of her head, detecting even the smallest lies she told him. Rosemary felt the heat rise to her face at these words and suddenly words of her own were spilling from her lips: "Face it, Riddle: you're not over me. Why else would you spend so much time reading my thoughts?"

He let out a short laugh. "Of course I'm over you. And I didn't find out by reading your thoughts," he snapped. "I heard you telling Myrtle."

"Oh, so you're spying on me, then? Even better."

"I wasn't –"

"Whatever," she shrugged, cutting him off.

Of course, this only served to infuriate him: "Well clearly I'm not the only one spying. You're the one eavesdropping at any mention of my name. Do you know what I think? I think that you went steady with Cramer just to try and make me jealous. I think you regret ending things, especially now that you see just how…influential I've become. Who knows, maybe you even ruined the first batch to spend a bit more time alone with me."

She stared at him for a long time before responding. "Well, it's certainly good to know that you're just as delusional as you are arrogant."

6:29 a.m.

He could hardly believe it, but somehow they managed to finish their potion in time. As they completed the last step, it was a momentous relief to see that it was the correct consistency and color. On top of it all, he held the satisfaction that Horton would never know he too had made a fateful mistake in their first batch. He was more than happy to let her take the blame rather than admit that he had accidentally skipped a round of stirring. Tom had only asked her if she had known what went wrong to assess whether or not she suspected him: he hadn't expected her to admit that the mistake had been all hers.

It was probably for the best that they finished when they did, considering their exhaustion and the fact that it seemed impossible for either of them to say anything without further escalating the tension between them. Though he had to admit, he was beginning to rather enjoy their banter. There was some small part of him that enjoyed her boldness and the challenge it presented.

Rosemary leaned forward to bottle their potion and Tom's eyes were drawn to the view of the ample cleavage that the motion afforded. Tom sucked in his breath as a rush of memories flooded his consciousness. He could remember just how they felt in his hands: just the right firmness and just the right size. And then there were those gorgeous pink nipples that practically begged him for attention. He certainly hadn't held back in this regard: licking, kissing, sucking, and biting them until Rosemary was so sensitive she couldn't take anymore. Merlin, he had to admit that he missed those breasts.

He thought of the other night when he had confronted her over the disbandment of Dueling Club and how she had emerged from her room so scantily dressed. If he hadn't been so outraged, it would have been exceedingly difficult to keep his eyes away from her.

What was happening to him? How could he go from frustration and resentful comments earlier to fantasizing about her body over the course of just a few hours? He pondered this question for a bit and it was then that he realized that just because he was over her didn't mean that he wasn't attracted to her any longer. He decided this was okay as there would be little he could do to stop it anyway.

Then she turned away from him and began gathering her things to leave. He watched her skirt slide up her legs further and further as she bent over; just a little more and he could have seen her panties. It took him a few seconds to realize that, once again, he was holding his breath.

Part of him wondered if she was doing it on purpose: was this the sort of revenge she was referring to earlier that morning? If so, he had to admit that it was quite effective. He wasn't used to wanting something he couldn't have, after all.

But what if he actually could? He hadn't really been serious earlier when he accused her of wanting him, but after recognizing his own attraction for her, it didn't seem out of the question to assume that she was still just as attracted to him too.

For a moment, he found himself thinking of the barrage of girls that followed him around during the Slytherin parties (particularly Gwen Carrow, who he would obviously need to have another word with about spreading lies that they were going steady). Why was it that they all failed to draw his attention? Why, when he very occasionally attempted to indulge their interest through a bit of snogging, did Horton's face keep appearing in his mind?

Then he had another realization: maybe the reason he couldn't take an interest in anyone else was because he had somehow glorified his past encounters with Horton? What if physical interactions with her really weren't any better, but because he was relying on his memory instead of a more recent comparison, he had been misled? And then he thought: maybe he should make a more recent comparison so he would know for certain.

Well, that was indeed an interesting idea. The more he thought about it, the more it began to grow on him. He'd been searching his mind over the last few days for a strategy to put her in her place and ensure that she kept quiet about his activities, preferably without the use of a memory charm (as this route would surely be less personally satisfying). And really, what better way would there be to keep her quiet than this? She wouldn't dare to cross him any longer in fear that he would tell Warren, or worse, her parents about her indiscretion. One time was all it would take.

But could he actually trust his thoughts? After all, he was so exhausted that he basically felt drunk.

"I'd say it's been a pleasure, but, well, it hasn't," she sneered and walked out of his dormitory before he had a chance to respond.

There was something about hearing that arrogant, sassy tone of hers that made him want to assert his dominance over her. To punish her for such an attempt at rebellion. His earlier idea was sounding better and better all the time…

But no, he wouldn't. What if it went to her head and she took it as a sign that he wasn't over her?

He pretended not to watch as she walked away and into the corridor toward her own dormitory. Part of him recognized that he had made the right decision: playing with fire was almost always an awful idea, after all. He just wished he could block out the rest of himself that itched for her.

Tom had been so caught up in his thoughts that it took him several seconds to realize that she had accidentally left one of her textbooks behind.

"Horton!" he called after her, hurrying to his doorway.

She turned around and briskly stepped toward him, reaching for the book in his outstretched hand. When she grasped it, their fingers brushed. He found himself holding his breath for the third time that evening, waiting for her to pull away and take the book with her. Only she didn't.

Time seemed to come to a momentary halt as she looked up at him with those blue eyes of hers, their fingers hardly touching. He became quickly aware of a burning sensation on the spots where her skin had made contact with his, though he had no explanation other than sleep-deprivation to explain this phenomenon. It wasn't a painful or uncomfortable feeling; rather, it was divine. Then, a sudden urge to indulge the rest of his body in such delight appeared in his mind. It consumed him.

And suddenly, they were kissing. Hard.

It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening and even then, he wasn't in the right frame of mind to process it. He was an animal: ravenous. There was no space for conscious thought, except for the flickers of sensation that sparked in the depths of his mind. He thought of the softness of her lips, the playfulness of her small tongue, her taste.

He pulled her inside, closed the door, and pressed her against it. Their ferocious kiss continued and he heard her bag and the forgotten book land on the floor of his room.

Tom picked her up, tossed her on the bed effortlessly, and dove on top of her, getting to work on the buttons of her blouse. He fumbled with them far more than usual due to his exhaustion and he burned with impatience toward the thin layer of cloth separating him from his prize.

He was nearly groaning in desire when her blouse suddenly ripped open, sending four or five buttons flying across his bedroom. Tom looked at her now-exposed chest in confusion for a moment, until he realized that he must have accomplished the feat with wandless magic fueled by his sudden lust for her.

Horton looked up at him in astonishment and he smirked. "Sorry."

Tom quickly removed her bra (which, surprisingly, presented far less of an issue than her blouse) and squeezed her breasts in his hands. As he softly nibbled on her, she moaned and thrust her hips against him, rubbing herself against the considerable bulge that had appeared in his trousers. He marveled at how delightfully hard her nipples became as he continued to tease her. His tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony to ensure that each of her elegant peaks received adequate attention.

He felt her reach down and attempt to take off his belt. It became quite apparent that he was driving her crazy, which in turn drove him even crazier. Tom decided he would oblige her and climbed off of her just long enough to shed his clothes. He was pleased when he looked down to see that she was doing the same with her remaining clothes.

They kissed again, just as frantically as before, and he was forced to disguise a groan as a cough as her dainty hands reached down and began stroking him. It felt so unbelievably good that he was tempted to close his eyes, lay back, and enjoy it, but he was also faced with the overwhelming urge to touch her as well…

Tom slowly slid his fingers down across her stomach and the well-groomed patch of hair until they reached the seductive folds of her womanhood. He pushed her legs apart further and slowly slid a finger inside of her, sucking in a breath when he realized just how wet she was. Tom removed his finger and inserted two inside of her this time. She whimpered and squirmed in pleasure as he did and his cock twitched in response. He throbbed for her and judging by her superb wetness, she throbbed for him too.

That was it – he simply couldn't take it any longer. He situated himself between her legs and pressed himself into her and she cried out, digging her nails into his back. He groaned aloud, unable to stifle it this time, as she took the entirety of his length, suddenly remembering how tightly her walls wrapped around him.

Tom told himself to slow down, enjoy it. After all, wasn't this supposed to be the last time?

But he couldn't. All he wanted was more, more, more, which translated to harder, faster, and deeper. Horton seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Tom was: he relished those delicious little noises that she let out as he fucked her.

He knew things would be ending soon. Part of him dreaded it, wishing they could keep going forever, while another part of him yearned for the release he had gone months without.

And then she came. The sound of her moans filled the room as her walls contracted around his member and the combination inevitably sent him over the edge. He collapsed, panting, his face buried in her fragrant hair.

Apparently, his memories of her had been quite accurate after all.

"Let me lie, let me die on thy snow-covered bosom,
I would eat of thy flesh as a delicate fruit,
I am drunk of its smell, and the scent of thy tresses
Is a flame that devours." – George Moore

Hey everyone, hope you enjoyed this chapter! (;

Thanks to those of you that have sent in comments after I posted the last update: Oksanallex, Guest, Guest, Queentakesjack, RosiePosie15, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, marly4077, Guest, and Guest!

Happy New Year's everyone!