Muscle Memory

March 30, 1945

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Rosemary frowned slightly at the tiny vial Tom had just placed in the palm of her hand. "I suppose."

He glanced at her impatiently. "Do you have a better idea to suggest?"

"Not particularly," she said quietly. Rosemary knew she had to, that this was a necessary form of insurance so that Dumbledore wouldn't read her thoughts and see right through their ploy…but that certainly didn't mean she liked it.

But reassurance in this form was essential. She and Tom had been practicing Occlumency every day that week in preparation for their plan and she had improved markedly (even to Tom's admission), but she felt nowhere near ready successfully deliver a string of lies to Dumbledore unaided. Rose was nearly shaking with nerves as she placed one drop of the potion into her gin and downed the glass.

Was she completely crazy for agreeing to help him? Surely they would be caught.

Tom's eyes locked with hers as she drank and she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of satisfaction in those near-black pools.

'No. They wouldn't get caught,' she told herself firmly. This was Tom Riddle, after all.

"Alright," she sighed as she felt the effects of the drug quickly spread over her. "Let's go."

Tom was itching with adrenaline and excitement for their carefully crafted plan to unfold. While he was obviously looking forward to the undebatable success that was sure to come from it, the time they had spent scheming together all week felt somehow more important.

He was puzzled when he saw her suddenly speed ahead of him toward to end of the corridor, but when he looked up to see who had just stepped off of the staircase and onto their floor, his questions were answered. Just looking at the git made Tom want to showcase his magical talents through a certain Unforgivable Curse…or maybe two.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Rosemary met Cramer near the stairs. "Hi Love," she greeted him in a singsong voice that made Tom's lip curl in disgust. Then, to make matters worse, she leaned in and kissed him. "We were just on our way to a meeting with Headmaster Dippet..."

Tom tuned out the rest of her lie as he strode past them, knowing perfectly well that Cramer's eyes were following him as he walked upstairs and out of sight. He wished the Ravenclaw would say what was surely on his mind; that he would just start something and give Tom an excuse to hex him senseless. Coward.

He almost shuddered when he remembered the awful word that Rosemary had called him:

Love.

So she did tell him she loved him. Well, not exactly; she had only called him 'Love'. But if she told him as well, it was surely because she had to anyway. Right? And she had to kiss him. She was only keeping up appearances. After all, it was Tom that she came back to every night. It was Tom who she spent her evenings with scheming and learning Occlumency and more. So much more.

Nor had she ever used that high pitched voice with him. He knew she only reserved that for when she was on her best behavior. And Tom supposed that her being seen around the castle with her supposed ex-lover would qualify.

These attempts at reassuring himself didn't stop him from being infuriated, however. He didn't care if she needed to keep up appearances; how dare she act that way in front of him? It was blatantly unacceptable. Tom was no longer accustomed to anyone daring to defy his wishes, even unknowingly.

'Focus,' he scolded himself. None of this was anything new. And, at the moment, he had far more important things to worry about than Warren Cramer.

When Rosemary finally caught up to him, Tom was reminded of a simple, comforting fact: she was there for him. They were doing this together. And soon she would see, just as he did, that this was the only way things could be for them.

Dumbledore shut the door to his office behind her and gestured for her to take a seat in the chair across from his desk. She was nervous, but her mind was pleasantly blank from her constant shield of Occlumency and the support of the drug.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor Dumbledore…It's just…I wasn't sure that Headmaster Dippet or the other professors would understand…" she began.

Albus gazed back at her with concern, which she couldn't seem to decide whether or not was genuine. "Of course, Miss Horton. Would you like a biscuit?" he extended a silver tray to her.

"Er, sure…" She took one gingerly.

He smiled at her warmly. "What has been troubling you?"

"It's about Riddle," she started with an air of caution.

She noticed a slight raise of his eyebrow as she mentioned Tom's name. Before continuing, she glanced around nervously at the portraits, just as she and Tom had planned. "Would you mind…?"

His attention surely captivated, Dumbledore bowed his head toward her slightly before raising his wand and saying, "Effigies abeo."

Rosemary waited as the portraits around them slowly faded to gray, though many of them managed to send a scowl her way beforehand. Portraits loved gossip even more than people did.

"Better?" There was that warm, comforting smile again that made Dumbledore the favorite professor of the school's majority.

She nodded.

"Now, then. What is it that you wanted to discuss about Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore's voice sounded comforting. Concerned. Though his eyes seemed to tell a different story – or was that just the drug?

The words she and Tom had rehearsed all week flowed from her lips with little thought. Under the effects of ECB, everything became easier – automatic even. "Well, Sir, I don't know how else to put this…but I don't think I can work with Tom any longer. He's arrogant and antagonistic and overly competitive in our classes…"

Rosemary was almost sure she saw the professor give a slight roll of his eyes behind his half-moon glasses. She assumed he was quite disappointed that, instead of learning something potentially useful about Tom, he had merely been subjected to the trivial complaints of a sensitive teenage girl. "Miss Horton, while I understand that these can be frustrating traits in someone you work so closely with on a regular basis, surely you were aware of them already given the history between the two of you."

"Not to this extent," she said with her planned air of defensiveness. "You know, I think he's just jealous –" She stopped abruptly as a high-pitched scream filled the corridor adjacent to Dumbledore's office. Right on cue.

Dumbledore and Rosemary dashed through the door to see Peggy Westermine at the end of the corridor with her hand over her mouth, pointing down at the floor around the corner. The body was just out of sight, but she could see the light brown hair of whatever sorry muggle-born Tom had selected to sacrifice for their cause.

The boy, Arthur Gould, was twitching erratically, as though he had been struck by lightning. Dumbledore immediately knelt down beside him and muttered a quick counter-curse to stop the boy's seizing.

"Did you see who attacked him, Peggy?" Rosemary asked the Gryffindor, her voice filled with concern that she hoped was convincing enough.

The girl shook her head violently, causing her blonde pigtails to smack the sides of her cheeks.

Rosemary nodded, relieved at the response though she knew that Tom wouldn't have allowed himself to be seen anyway. "He'll be just fine, Peggy. Why don't you head back to the Gryffindor common room?"

The girl nodded silently and backed away from the two of them, her eyes still wide.

When she was out of earshot, Rose turned to Dumbledore "We should take him to the Infirmary, Professor…Just to make sure he is alright."

He nodded and stood before casting a levitating charm on the carpet that Gould had conveniently landed on. "Why don't you stay here, Rosemary, and try to piece together who specifically might have done this. Discreetly, of course; the last thing the school needs is another reason to panic." The professor sounded exhausted and a little frustrated as well; Rosemary suspected she might have had something to do with that.

She nodded. "I will, Sir." Just when he was about to start down the corridor she added, "Perhaps we can resume our conversation another time?"

Dumbledore stared at her over his glasses for a few seconds as though he could see through their entire charade, but she continued to look back at him with a blank, innocent expression. "Of course, Miss Horton," he told her finally.

On Rosemary's signal, Tom slipped into Dumbledore's office. The plan had worked beautifully so far. Then again, had he really expected anything less?

It took a few long moments for it to sink in that, for the first time, there was no need to feel uneasy about being in Dumbledore's office (snooping around, no less). With Rosemary on watch in the corridor and the paintings banished, he was free to peruse the old man's belongings. Even if he didn't find anything, he hadn't been this happy in a while.

He checked the desk first – nothing.

Then he moved on to the bookshelf, carefully scanning it for anything that seemed out of place – nothing.

Tom stopped himself, then, knowing he was going about this all wrong. Dumbledore wasn't an idiot (at least not a complete idiot, though even this pained him greatly to admit). He certainly wouldn't hide anything in a place that would be completely obvious…Or would he, because he would assume that whoever was snooping would have the same thoughts as Tom? What exactly was he looking for, anyway?

Tom sighed in frustration with himself. He had been so wrapped up in getting to this moment with the help of Rosemary and solidifying that half of the plan that he had barely put any thought into what was supposed to happen next. This was the effect of infatuation that he loathed most of all: that foggy feeling in his mind that only seemed to lift when he was thinking of Rosemary.

But time was running out and he had to think of something. He stared into the fire that was smoldering in the Professor's fireplace and then it hit him: Dumbledore wouldn't hide anything. He wouldn't take that sort of risk, especially not if it was something as scandalous as a secret partnership between himself, Grindelwald, and MAGI. He would destroy anything even remotely related to it.

Tom dashed over to the fireplace and began sifting through the sooty mess that quickly covered his hands and soiled his school uniform. It was worth it, though, because soon his hands emerged from the ashes with scorched corner of parchment that read, simply:

"-G"

He knew it didn't prove anything; 'G' could be anyone, after all. But it certainly made the prospect of intercepting Dumbledore's mail seem a bit more worthwhile.

"What happened?" Rosemary hissed as she eyed him up and down once he exited the professor's office. "Did you find anything?"

"Meet me at my dormitory after Dumbledore comes back from the Infirmary," Tom instructed her, ignoring her questions.

He cleaned himself up while he waited for her, his nerves buzzing with excitement. This was it: the afternoon that could very well change everything between them. The run-in with Cramer earlier seemed irrelevant now. She would finally see (especially after he revealed a small secret he had kept from her) that the two of them were inevitable. Unstoppable.

"What did you find?" she demanded eagerly as soon as he opened his door and stepped aside to let her in. Gone were any traces of what had appeared to be soot on his clothes and hands.

He seemed amused at her impatience and gestured to the edge of his bed for her to take a seat. "In a moment. But first, I should confess that I may have been a bit dishonest with you earlier."

The sly smile on his face made her nervous and she sat down. "About what?"

"This," he removed the vial of ECB from his pocket and held it in front of her face, "is gin. Well, with an enchantment to match the color, of course."

Rosemary laughed and rolled her eyes. "No it's not. Don't be ridiculous."

"It is. See?" He uncapped it and brought it to his lips.

Rose tried to grab the vial from his fingers. "Tom, don't! It's not funny. It's dangerous and –" She looked at him in horror when she realized it was too late and that he had swigged the entire potion.

"Not dangerous. Unless you're Olive Hornby and Miss Horton has had one too many," he smirked as he brought the empty vial to her nose.

She inhaled. It certainly smelled like gin. "But…I felt it," she said in disbelief.

"No you didn't." He shook his head and looked at her in amusement before tapping one of her temples lightly with a long finger. "This was all you needed."

"How do you know that Dumbledore didn't see through me? I could have ruined everything, Tom…for Raoul, for you…"

"But you didn't. You can thank me later for the invaluable guidance that I've provided you." Rosemary rolled her eyes; he was as arrogant as always. "Though I admit that I might actually be rather envious of how quickly you've picked up Occlumency. If my level of mastery in the art happened to be less, anyway…"

More than anything, she wanted to tell him right then and there exactly how she felt. She loved everything about him, she was so sure. But in that moment, she was particularly struck with his willingness to share his vast knowledge with her. She loved that she could learn so much from him, improving her magical abilities in the process.

Rose knew she couldn't tell him any of this, though – at least not yet. Her heart ached, wishing that it was only three days later and that she hadn't agreed to spending the evening with Warren when she ran into him near the stairs that afternoon. Though she had other reservations as well. She still didn't know if Tom had slept around (or perhaps still was) with the Slytherin girls she had heard so much about from Markus and Faye.

"So what did you find?" she asked weakly, still reeling from what he had revealed to her already.

He launched into his recount of the ten or so minutes he had spent in Dumbledore's office while she stood guard, and then they launched into a discussion about who 'G' could be and whether or not the discovery actually meant anything at all. Tom told her that he would discuss it with Raoul over the weekend while she was gone for Easter vacation and that he would catch her up when she returned.

At some point, Rosemary ended up in his lap and they snogged for a good while. Just as things were beginning to heat up, she glanced at the clock and sighed. Warren would be waiting for her.

"I have to go and meet Faye." It hurt to lie to him, but she supposed she could live with it knowing that it wouldn't be necessary for much longer.

His hand rested on her thigh, just above the top of her stocking. He smirked and gently drew his fingers just a little higher up her leg. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"And now?" His fingers danced dangerously close to her knickers.

Oh, how she wished she could stay and relish this rare, playful mood of his. It was everything she could do to lean over, kiss his jaw, and whisper "Later?" into his ear. When she inhaled his musky aftershave her entire resolve to leave was nearly derailed.

Before he had a chance to respond and potentially change her mind for good, she leapt off his lap and let herself out of his dormitory.

Things were even more awkward than usual between her and Warren that evening, though this came as no surprise given that he had spotted her with Tom earlier that day. Still, she found it highly unlikely that either of them would dare to bring it up.

Rosemary studied the wizard's chess match and debated her next move internally. She could beat Warren any day quite effortlessly, but sometimes she made poor moves just to give him a fighting chance. Judging by her current level of guilt, she figured that she would have to find a way to let him win altogether.

"It will get easier, Rose," Warren said suddenly.

"What are you talking about?"

He looked at her for a long time and then sighed. "With Tom."

"Warren, you don't have to worry. I'm over him. Really."

'When did lying to him become so easy?' she wondered.

"I know that's not true," he told her, sending a shock through her system and her heart into erratic, nervous patterns. Were things going to end right then and there, just before leaving for Easter weekend? How was she possibly going to explain this to her parents?

"And it's okay. I mean, I understand," Warren continued. Rosemary sighed internally in relief. "After everything that happened with your parents, I'm sure you just don't want to believe that it was all for nothing. That can be very difficult to move past. But it wasn't for nothing, because it brought us together." He reached over and took his hand in hers. She felt rather ill at the sound of such unbridled sappiness. "Anyway, I understand that it's going to take some time to move past. Of course, it doesn't help that the two of you have to work together so often with your Head Girl duties…But it's going to get much easier when we leave Hogwarts, Rose. You'll see." Clearly this was something he had given quite a bit of thought.

He gazed at her with a heartbreakingly hopeful look. She wanted to tell him the truth in that moment; she really did. She wanted to tell him that in just a few days' time, they would be all for nothing – not Tom and her. She wondered if Warren would think back to this moment and know that she had only kept things going to evade the inevitable confrontation with her parents for just a little longer.

Rose was perfectly aware of how exceptionally selfish this was. But she had to be selfish. For Tom…for them. Even so, her guilt took over as Warren leaned in to kiss her and she found herself kissing him back, if only to indulge his delusions just a little longer.

Tom attempted not to look too eager as Rosemary appeared at his door for the second time that evening. "Won't you come over?" Besides this sultry invitation, no words were exchanged. They both knew what would happen next. After she closed the door behind them, she simply leaned into him, tilted her head up, and kissed him. He kissed her back hungrily, having daydreamt about her the entire time she was with Faye, though he paused when his lips left hers and started down her neck.

The smell on her neck was strangely familiar, though out of place on her delicate flesh. It took a few seconds to hit him: Cramer. She had lied to him.

Tom pulled away and took a seat on the edge of her bed as an awful weight seemed to settle itself on his chest, constricting his heart just enough so that he would feel like he was suffocating but still keep him alive. He had thought he was so close. But no – because she had left to see him. And do a little more than 'see' him, apparently. His entire plan had been for nothing.

She smiled at him as she disrobed, but the sight of her naked body only pushed him further into the emptiness spreading throughout him. He traced her curves with his eyes – had Cramer been touching them just moments before she arrived? What about her smooth, full breasts or the lovely, lightly manicured place between her thighs?

"What?" She gave him a puzzled look.

"Nothing," he said, his voice sounding as empty as he felt and strangely foreign to him.

She smiled again and walked gracefully to him before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his lips. Tom tried to kiss her back, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt weak, defeated, and betrayed. And nothing infuriated him more than those feelings.

How dare she? How dare they? It was unacceptable that anyone but Tom was allowed to touch her. Rosemary was his; didn't she and Cramer understand that? No. Of course not. What was he thinking, just waiting for her to come back to him? Why hadn't he just proven his possession over her and forced her to return?

Because Rosemary wasn't that simple to obtain. And he knew it.

Somehow, Tom ended up with his clothes off and had climbed into bed with Rosemary. It was as though they had done this so many times that the act was purely muscle memory that required no additional thought. He couldn't bring himself to touch her in return as her hands trailed across his chest and eventually down toward his erect member.

Muscle memory indeed…

"Feel me," she whispered into his ear as she took his hand and led his fingers to her nether regions. His fingers just hovered near her opening as a truly torturous thought crossed his mind: had Cramer just been inside of her? Yes, he was most certainly going to be ill any moment now…

Rosemary pulled away from him suddenly. "I have a question. It's sort of personal…"

"Okay" was all he could seem to manage. Her body had been tainted. The body that had once been entirely Tom's to do whatever he pleased.

"Are the rumors true, Tom? Are you sleeping with some of the Slytherin girls?"

If anything could have possibly pushed him farther over the edge than he already was, it was surely this. What right did she have to ask him about this? Was she not the one who, just earlier that day, had been in the arms of another man? The same one that she had called 'Love' in the corridor right in front of him?

It became clear to him very quickly that he needed to leave before things escalated out of his control. With this, he jumped out of bed and began separating his clothes from the tangled mess of theirs together on the floor near her bed.

He could hear her rolling her eyes in her voice, though he wouldn't look up at her to confirm. "It was just a question, Tom. You don't have to answer."

After everything, after spending nearly every free hour with her teaching her Occlumency and relishing her body, this was how he was to be repaid? The girl really had some nerve. "You, of all people, have absolutely no right to ask me such a thing," he spat.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She looked stung, which satisfied him, though only to a small degree. "I just wanted to know in case I need to get tested for anything at my annual at St. Mungo's this weekend…"

Tom gritted his teeth. Unbelievable. She kept making it worse and worse.

"So you're just going to leave, then?"

He continued to dress and refused to respond to her. There was a growing urge inside of him to say something– anything– that would hurt her just as much as she hurt him. But he couldn't allow himself to do it...

"Whatever. You'll be back anyway." He could hear the frustration in her voice even though she was clearly attempting to sound careless.

This comment was more than sufficient to eliminate any remaining resolve to keep his mouth shut. He laughed spitefully as he strode to the door. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"And why is that?" she challenged.

He stopped in her doorframe, turned, and locked eyes with her, his entire body flooded with the calm, overwhelming rage that he knew all too well. "Well, it's just like you said weeks ago Miss Horton – this doesn't mean anything."

"She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her." ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Thanks so much to Oksanallex, Blerb, gr8rockstarrox, Guest6, RosiePosie15, Mrs. WaylandOdinsonBlack, marly4077, Lady Ravanna, and five Guest users for your reviews! I absolutely love getting readers' thoughts on the story.

I've already begun writing the next chapter so I'm aiming for a quick update! Stay tuned, friends, and thanks for reading. (: