Authors notes.

Last chapter I didn't seem to get many views or comments. I am not sure if notification emails are being sent out. If you read this, please check your settings. :-)

There is a second a/n at the bottom of the page.

The Fallen.

A door opened in the corridor as Professor Dumbledore passed by, and a voice called, "Albus! One moment, please!"

It was Slughorn, his waistcoat undone and without his robe. "I've been looking for you since breakfast." he said. "I wondered where you were. I'd searched your office, all your classrooms and I even went to the Headmaster's office, but even he'd no idea where to find you."

"Ah, I found a quiet classroom and began working on the forms for next year's NEWT exams." Dumbledore sighed. "I never realised how much form filling that needed to be done when I took the position of Deputy Head. Every year, there seems to be more and more, and more. I suppose, there's a great deal extra to do now that our Headmaster has become a trifle forgetful, shall we say?"

Slughorn nodded. Most of the staff knew Armando Dippet spent more time napping in his office than he did performing his duties. Despite that, the old man showed no signs of resigning just yet.

"So, Horace, what would you like to speak to me about? Shall we speak in there?" Dumbledore waved a hand towards the room Slughorn had come from. "...or somewhere more private?"

"Oh, here is fine. There's been no one else in since I arrived."

The room was uncomfortably hot with a large fire blazing in the grate and, from the dip in the seat of the armchair beside it, Slughorn had been taking forty winks by the fire. Dumbledore gave the fire a wide berth and instead headed for the middle of the room where several sofas and armchairs had been drawn up into a rudimentary circle.

"I preferred our old Teacher's Common Room," he mused. "I find this one is rather austere in comparison." He ran his eyes around the room, frowning at the functional shelving, the walls decorated only by students' timetables and the bare floorboards.

Horace looked about him and gave a small shrug.

'Likely,' thought Dumbledore, 'he doesn't have a strong opinion since he rarely comes in here.'

Slughorn walked over to a side table where a Charmed teapot hovered, underneath were laid teacups and saucers, a milk jug and sugar bowl.

"Tea?" Slughorn asked. "Or a nip of something stronger?" The skin around the potion master's eyes puckered and his hand pointed to where his personal silver flask lay on the table.

Since one never knew what extras Slughorn might have added to his brandy, Dumbledore shook his head. "Not for me, thank you."

He took a seat on the largest sofa, sinking into the deep cushions. "I have a meeting with one of my second-years shortly. The boy had placed a large amount of frogs in the Common Room. Little Mildred Holmes came down during the night and had a terrible scare when they jumped out on her. She ran up the stairs, slipped and hurt her ankle. I was woken to deal with the situation."

Horace nodded, barely listening, silently stirring his tea and not enquiring about the student's health.

'Odd,' thought Dumbledore, 'Is he nervous about this conversation?' Since he didn't like being at odds with his fellow members of staff, he asked, "What's wrong, Horace? How can I help you?"

The potions professor looked up from his stirring. "Ah, I'm afraid you aren't going to like this."

Dumbledore waited, keeping his face open and inviting.

Slughorn came over to the semi-circle– still twirling the silver teaspoon around in his tea. Lowering his bulky frame onto the armchair opposite Dumbledore, he began, "I'd like you to remove the chains from Tom and Buffy."

Dumbledore's face instantly closed off.

Placing his cup and saucer down on the side table, Slughorn raised his hands in a gesture of apology. "I'm sorry to ask. I know it's your right to punish students for misbehaviour and as Head of their House I'm mortified, simply mortified, they've let their House down. However..." He bit his lip and shuffled forward so that he was almost hanging over the edge of his seat. "Albus, it isn't just me who thinks it's gone too far. There are other members of staff who feel the same."

"Oh, I know, Horace. Professor Babbling doesn't like it in the slightest, neither does Galatea or Minerva. The only one who really approves is Kettleburn." The corners of his mouth tilted upwards at the memory. "He says that life would be easier if all the students were kept chained during their time at Hogwarts."

Slughorn nodded, picking up his drink again and not meeting Dumbledore's eye. "There are parents as well."

"Are there?" Albus asked heavily. "Who are these parents taking umbridge to my methods? The usual ones who do, I expect?"

Slughorn took a sip of tea before answering. "I've received owls from both Arcturus and Pollux Black. They're shocked at how Buffy was dragged through the boys dormitories and onto Tom's bed yesterday morning. You do know, he and his roommates were in the middle of dressing when it happened?"

Slughorn was genuinely distraught that a girl had invading the boys' dormitories. "That kind of thing upsets parents, Albus. I know we're no longer living in the nineteenth-century, but this is a school and Hogwarts needs to be seen as upholding moral standards. We don't want the parents worrying about their offspring's virtue."

Dumbledore almost laughed. Over the years, he'd seen a lot of students playing fast and free with each other's virtues. "The Blacks are worried that Riddle has besmirched Buffy's virtue?"

"No! No! Not at all!"

It was amazing how fast Slughorn was defending Tom Riddle. He'd told Dumbledore on many occasions he believed Tom was the brightest young wizard he'd ever taught. Dumbledore's eyes glinted with amusement. "Do they believe Buffy defiled Tom?"

Slughorn almost choked. Red-faced, he spluttered, "Albus!" Then shook his head. "It is more a case of general impropriety. I don't, for an instant, believe anything untoward went on in that room. Everyone behaved with immense respect at the unfortunate situation, as I expected them to."

"I'm pleased that you have so much confidence in your pupils," Dumbledore soothed. He suspected Slughorn missed a lot of what went on in the dungeons, but the man had loyalty in spades and he couldn't fault the care he took of his students.

His feathers still ruffled, the Potions master went on. "Tom sent me a message apologising for and explaining what happened. It was a simple mistake. Buffy had forgotten all about the chains and tried leaving the Slytherin area without Tom. Of course, the chains reformed, dragging her back through the Common Room, along the corridors and all the way to Tom's room." He tutted softly. "Riddle is far too quiet and unassuming to even think of doing anything... ungentlemanly."

"Hmm?" Dumbledore doubted it. Riddle was neither blind to Buffy's looks nor stupid enough to ravish her in public and he was certainly not shy!

"Albus! He really wouldn't!"

"I'm teasing you. I'm sure you are right about him," he said to pacify the other Head of House. Deep down, Albus would never forget the sullen, peevish boy he'd met on a wet January day at a Muggle orphanage. If Tom Riddle turned dark at some point it wouldn't surprise him. And speaking of dark...

"I don't think the Blacks are all that worried about Buffy's reputation. Oh, I know there was talk of a union between the two families, but do you really..." Dumbledore chuckled. "Do you really see the Blacks allowing their son to marry someone who is a Halfblood, at best?"

When he'd heard the rumour, he'd wondered if the Blacks had discovered Buffy's true lineage. He'd rapidly dismissed it. If they'd known, a watertight marriage contract would have been drawn up faster than you could say 'blood magic'. No, if the Blacks had written to Slughorn, then it was because Buffy put pressure on her Black friends and ask their parents to complain.

Horace looked pained. "The Blacks aren't the only ones to complain."

"Who?" Albus gave the fat wizard a hard look, which had him shuffling in his seat nervously. "Horace, as Deputy Headmaster I need to know."

"Minister Lestrange owled me."

"Ah!" Dumbledore steepled his hands. Minister Lestrange had always taken a great deal of interest in Joyce Lovegood and her daughter. Was that because he was secretly sweet on Joyce or was it because he'd guessed the identity of Buffy's father? He'd been there the night she was conceived, after all.

The Grindelwalds were an old, powerful European family and to have one of them on his side could prove favourable in future. Wizarding politics was a tricky beast to handle at the best of times and even more so when there was a war creating and dividing their numbers. Dumbledore sighed softly and looked back at Horace, his expression unreadable. "What exactly did Minister Lestrange say?"

Slughorn sipped his tea. He side-eyed the other professor carefully. "You know that he was jinxed in The Three Broomsticks yesterday?"

Dumbledore nodded. There'd been a lot of shenanigans going on in the Three Broomsticks. Most blamed the students for the high jinks, others thought a business rival was behind it. Since Aberforth owned the Hog's Head (the only other pub in Hogsmeade), his brother had sent him a terse note saying that he needed to discipline all the students involved.

"Poor Marcus was beside himself with worry." Horace tutted in sympathy. "I allowed him and... a couple of friends to floo to St Mungo's via the fireplace in my office. I remembered how unpleasant it is to wait around hospitals alone."

Dumbledore made a sympathetic noise and Horace went on. "Minister Lestrange was most grateful that I'd allowed his son to see him. He sent a charming note thanking me. I'll probably invite him to one of my dinners this year. He's always been very accommodating when I've pointed out students to him that I thought might be an asset as employees..." Aware Albus was waiting for him to get to the point, he continued. "He also thanked Tom and Buffy being there."

That was news! "Tom and Buffy?" Dumbledore repeated, his voice incredulous. "You allowed Tom Riddle and Buffy Summers off the school premises without informing me?"

Slughorn nervously played with the handle of his cup. "I did obtain the Headmaster's approval first and I had no complaints about their behaviour."

The Headmaster knew? And to London as well! The thought of Buffy sitting in a public place unprotected horrified him. What if Von Kendrick or Grindelwald had found out? Hadn't he promised Joyce that he'd take care of her daughter? How could he keep it, if others sent her away without his knowledge? A Hogsmeade trip was bad enough – he'd have made sure to keep her in sight without her knowledge – but Buffy going to a hospital, where anyone could be?

Albus took a deep breath. What was done was done. Buffy was safely back in the castle, all he had to do was ensure this never happened again.

"Minister Lestrange," continued Slughorn, "spoke to them at length while at St Mungo's. He is deeply concerned about the propriety of a boy and girl being chained together and the message it sends out to others. He says students shouldn't wear chains like dangerous prisoners and he plans on contacting the other Hogwarts governors. He wants the punishment ending forthwith."

"Ending forthwith?" Dumbledore repeated a dangerous glint in his eyes. That sounded rather like a threat and that he didn't like.

"His exact words, Albus. Since the Blacks are also governors, I wanted to warn you which way the wind is blowing in. Wouldn't it be wiser to end the punishment now, rather than later?"

He didn't say it would save face, but that was what he implied. Horace was being remarkably blunt for a Slytherin. Dumbledore realised that Tom and Buffy's punishment must be really upsetting him. "They had to be taught a lesson, Horace. You can't allow the students to disrupt classes. How would we ever teach?"

"I agree." Horace nodded. "I'd simply have preferred another method. Albus, I believe they both have learnt their lesson and will work well together from now on. They're both bright students, and the only thing I've seen them argue over recently are runes and, er," he chuckled, "fairies."

"Fairies?" Dumbledore began to feel like a parrot repeating Slughorn's words like this. Fairies? That was an odd thing for the two to argue over. Something niggled in the back of his mind. What was it? Oh, yes! When Buffy's trunk had been confiscated while Slughorn searched for illegal Grindelwald material, he'd found a book on fairy stories then.

Slughorn grinned happily. "Buffy talked of baking Tom a cake for his birthday. When she offered to put a fairy on the top and Tom begged her not to. It was quite sweet watching the pair bickering. They make a striking couple, you know. Him being so dark and her so fair."

Dumbledore tensed. Becoming sweet on one another wasn't the lesson he wanted them to learn. He'd only hoped to have peace in his classroom, stop the bickering, instil discipline and set an example to others. Of course, this 'argument' could have been a case of them acting to fool Slughorn. The Sorting Hat didn't put you in Slytherin without a good reason. Slytherins were known as devious and deceitful. They'd do anything to get their own way.

He said none of this to Slughorn, merely saying, "Very well. Let us see how they behave in class tomorrow. If I believe they've truly learnt their lesson, then I'll remove the chains." He rose to his feet and stretched a little. "Now, I really must see that student of mine. He will be waiting for me."

…

"Where is she then?" Antonin Dolohov called, his lip curled up in a sneer. He'd been lounging against a wall talking to a 7th- year Ravenclaw when he'd seen Tom approaching and stepping out to intercept him. "Have you found a way to dispose of her permanently?"

Was that a joke? Dolohov's sense of humour had always been... odd. It annoyed Tom and he was surprised when his magic responded angrily, setting a trail of fire down his veins, into his wand hand and demanding a fiery release. Fiendfyre. Oh, how he would love to summon Fiendfyre and watch Dolohov scream.

It was no use fantasising. He'd never be able to hide Fiendfyre. Wands would be checked and he'd be expelled. They might even take his wand and all his plans – the old and the new – would come to naught. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the unique scent of Hogwarts; a smell of dust, of furniture polish, the Scottish air and the tang of ancient magic. Today was not the day for Fiendfyre; there would be other days and other enemies worse than a sneering Dolohov.

He used legilimency; staring into the eyes of the older boy and saw... ambition and contempt. Ambition? When had that happened? Although never a low-ranking knight, Dolohov had always been happy to let himself take the lead and had been easy to manipulate. Something or someone had caused this rebellion. Had Dolohov sworn allegiance to another? Was it someone from school? No, there would have been signs. It made more sense this was someone outside of school. Dolohov would leave following his Newts – if he took his NEWTs. There'd been a distinct lack of studying and he'd more than once claimed that he found school boring. Someone must have recruited him.

"We're on a bathroom break," Tom replied, keeping his tone even. "I have to say, Dolohov, she's better company than some not far from me that I could name. Perhaps, I should dispose of them?" He looked up from under heavy lids, his eyes slitted. He'd managed to keep the hiss of parseltongue from his voice, but a tic played in Dolohov's cheek. The Ravenclaw muttered something intelligible, peeled himself from the wall and sloped off.

If Dolohov had stayed silent that would have been the end of it. Tom would have gone on his way, but he had to say, "Salazar, Riddle! The bitch is almost a Mudblood!"

'I DON'T CARE!' yelled Tom inside his head and the mask of indifference slipped. His expression had become darker and crueller. "I suggest you never insult Miss Summers again. You know nothing about her nor her bloodlines." That was one question he was beginning to think he knew the answer to.

Something stirred in Dolohov's eyes and the clumsy way he tried covering it – by throwing up an image of his dinner, a steaming steak and kidney pie – had Tom whipping his wand out and pointing it at Dolohov's chest.

"What do you know?" Tom asked, his wand steady. Already, there were several different hexes on the tip of his tongue, ready to choose from. "I don't like it when people try to hide things from me. You know that. Tell me!"

Dolohov's hand twitched towards his robe pocket, and Tom's smile widened. "Yes, Dolohov, go for your wand. You've already seen me in action. You know how my magic cuts sharp and true."

With great care, Dolohov slowly moved his hands away from his pockets and held them where Tom could easily see them.

"I don't know anything, Tom!"

Anger burned through him. How dare he use his first name! "I revoke the permission I gave you to call me by that name. Stop..." His yew wand twisted and flicked and a mild Stinging hex hit the older boy's cheek. "Lying!"

"My Lord!"

"Are you completely stupid?" Tom hissed, cursing in parseltongue. "Don't address me by that in a public corridor!" Why, oh why, was he surrounded by idiots? It was no wonder they'd quickly accepted him as leader, he was the only one who had any intelligence.

'He's one of the mutants,' said a voice inside his head, sounding a lot like Buffy's. 'Inbreeding has made his brain implode.'

Tom laughed.

Hearing it, Dolohov tried to step away, his hand going once again towards his wand pocket. He cried out as more Stinging Hexes struck him, one, two, three, all hitting him in quick succession. One struck the fingers of his wand hand, another his chin and a third the very tip of his nose. Dolohov's nose began pulsing bright red and it made Tom laugh. He'd thrown more power into that last one and the boy would need to see the nurse.

If only Buffy was here with me. Hexing and laughing at the same time are fun.

"I'm sorry." Dolohov tentatively moved his hand, checking the end of his throbbing, red nose.

"Think nothing of it," Tom replied politely and chuckled. "I'm always ready to oblige those who disrespect me. Now... about Buffy. Tell me everything you know."

"She's a girl," began Dolohov and suddenly found himself slammed into the wall behind him. He wasn't thrown far, but the back of his head hit the stonework and momentarily stunned him. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, found Tom looming over him, one hand pressing his bone-coloured wand to the base of his throat and the other hand gripping the front of Dolohov's robe.

Tom had neither time nor patience for this. The chains would reform shortly and if he wasn't within a few feet of Buffy would be dragged on his belly into the library. That would not be a good thing to happen to either a prefect or a young Dark Lord. Damn Dumbledore and his chains to Muggle Hell.

"Tell me," Riddle hissed. "Tell Me."

"People are talking about her. I don't know who they are! It's no use hexing me! I was in the hallway of my uncles house just before I came back to Hogwarts and overheard them. I never saw their faces, they floo'd in and left the same way. The door was open slightly and they were saying that she is an aberration and shouldn't be here. They spoke about how she'd been hit her with a spell she shouldn't have come back from and now he wants her even more."

That was curious. "What did they mean, 'a spell she should not have come back from'?"

Shaking his head, Dolohov said, "I don't know. I didn't hear much. I heard my uncle coming over to close the door and ducked away. If he'd found me listening... things wouldn't have gone well for me."

"Your uncle is a Grindelwald supporter?" Tom asked, knowing that he wasn't. The entire family had moved to Britain after a dispute with the Dark Wizard.

"My uncle supports Von Kendrick! Von Kendrick despises all rejects; the Squibs, the Mudbloods, the Oc–."

"What do you think he wants with her?" Tom didn't have time for this. He needed the facts and quickly.

Dolohov shrugged. "To experiment on. Everyone knows Von Kendrick is collecting rejects to experiment on. He wants to unravel the mystery of why the Mudbloods have magic and the Squibs don't. To them, Buf–." The tip of Tom's wand pressed into his throat, cutting him off. "Er, Miss Summers, is a flobberworm."

"Yet you flirted with her?" That rankled Tom.

Dolohov gave a small Gaelic shrug. "She's pretty. Mudblood girls are gullible and easy to seduce." Sensing that a hexing was imminent and wanting to transfer Tom's ire to another, Dolohov added, "Nothing happened! She wants the Gryffindor, Dearborn."

Tom stared at him hard, badly wanting to hex him. It was too late, he'd run out of time. Lowering his wand, he used the fistful of robes to drag the older boy to his feet. "Dearborn is not a problem. Keep away from Buffy in future. And should you hear more about Von Kendrick's plans, I want to know. Don't tell me and you'll leave Hogwarts feet first in a wooden box. Do you understand me?"

….

"Where's the God's gift to Slytherin gone?" Travers asked as he dragged out the chair facing Buffy and sneered across the table at her and Lovell.

Buffy looked up from the book she shared with her cousin, her face cold. "If you mean Tom, we're on a break. He's due back any time now. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear why you think he's God's gift to Slytherin."

"Oh, someone is a mite touchy! What is he? Your boyfriend or something?" drawled Travers. He leaned over, tugging the book from under Lovell's fingers and yanking it towards him. Then he let out a yelp as Lovell rapped him across the knuckles with his wand.

Buffy grinned. "Go you, cuz!"

Lovell smiled back sheepishly and Buffy pulled the book off Travers. "You said you weren't interested, O' Wizard of the Red Knuckles. It's a book on the Fae. It's been lent to me – by someone else not you."

Travers gave a disdainful sniff. "Oh, those things."

During a hurried conversation outside the girls' toilets, Buffy had managed to update Travers on her meeting with the Pouka. Travers had told her that she was wasting her time and walked off. Later, after retreating to the girl's dorms for the night, She'd gone to Walburga's room and found the older girl sitting on her bed, reading a magazine and painting her toenails. After Buffy had finished her story she'd given a delicate shrug, and gone back to reading her magazine.

The only ones who seemed excited by her meeting were Uma and Fiona. Her roommates had pounced on her as soon as she entered their shared bedroom and demanded to know what happened with the Pouka. After swearing them to secrecy, she'd told them and the two of them had squealed excitedly. Uma had even surprised her by going through her trunk and producing a book on the Fae. When she'd read it in bed later, it seemed to be all about Fae princes kidnapping pretty young girls and sweeping them off to underground palaces where they lived happily ever after, but at least Uma had tried to help.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, those things. So... can I borrow your books?"

Travers recoiled. "I'm not lending you MY books!"

"Then do what Watchers do best," Buffy retorted. "Go research. Get the necessary and report back to your Slayer. That's me, in case you forgot."

His mouth curled down mulishly. "Really? You really expect me to jump to attention? You aren't my commanding officer. I've already told you, that isn't the way this arrangement works. The Watcher instructs and Slayer obeys – instantly, no argument. A Slayer is a tool for the Council, nothing more."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Lovell exclaimed. He went on, "Anyone can be a Watcher –"

Travers choked in indignation, but Buffy nodded.

Encouraged, Lovell went on. "...but the Slayer is one girl in all the world. She alone wields the strength and skill..."

Buffy could have corrected him there, but she didn't. Telling Travers and Lovell there was more than one Slayer in her last life would only lead to confusion and awkward questions.

Lovell continued. "Not the Watcher, the Slayer alone. To me, it makes more sense if the Slayer tells the Watcher what needs to be researched. She is the one who is in the field –."

Buffy interrupted with, "It's usually graveyards. Creepies digging their way out of graves and hanging out in there."

Lovell nodded. "And since Buffy is the first Slayer we've had since Lily Moon–"

Buffy smiled sweetly. "Lily Moon did something mega-awesome. She died of old age. No Slayer had done that before. My bet is the way she died destroyed the original spell."

Travers scowled."We don't know what happened to the slayer line," he pointed out. "I've told you before, all the later Watcher's diaries are missing and my father never had the chance to explain why another girl wasn't chosen. Still, I suppose, we have you." The way he said it was as if she was a terminal disease.

Buffy kept her smile fixed, refusing to be cowed. "Yup, little ole me. The one and only, Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

"She-who-should-not-be-here," grinned Lovell. "The Girl Who Lived."

Buffy's eyes sparkled. "That's me, Death-Defier and Wonder of The World. Hey, I'm sorta like Wonder Woman, sans the cute outfit. And... I guess that reference is totally lost on you two."

"Wonder Woman is a heroine from a Muggle comic," Travers replied, making Buffy blink. Travers read comics?! The thought of Travers reading a comic about Wonder Woman robbed her of speech.

"And so," Lovell went on, "since Buffy holds all the cards, and you only –"

"Have all the books, then I call the shots, " Travers replied tossing his hair away from his face. If he'd been aiming to look dramatic it failed. A lock of greasy hair stuck to his mouth.

"Go. Don't help then." Buffy was sick of Travers and the way he tried to make things difficult for her. What she needed was someone more like Giles. Someone who actually cared and tried to help to help her; she didn't need Travers. "Others are helping me. I told Fiona and Uma. They wanna help. Tom's gonna help and he's a prefect."

Travers pulled the hair from his mouth. "You shouldn't trust Riddle. In fact, you'd do better to avoid him."

Buffy huffed. "Yeah? How do I do that, Sherlock? If you haven't noticed, I'm chained to him."

The Watcher's upper lip curled. "Then you must avoid looking directly into his eyes."

Buffy snickered.

"Seriously, I believe Riddle has some level of natural legilimency. That means, he can read thoughts."

"I know what it means!"

Travers gave her a hard stare. "Have you said anything about you being a you-know-what when you've been with him?"

"Uh, no. I haven't mentioned Spikey to him either. He said boggarts should be put in a jar for the Unspeakables to experiment on."

"Hmm, that's one thing we are in agreement on."

"Hey! Spikey isn't like other boggarts."

Travers snorted softly, scooped his book bag off the floor and stood. "I will check my books for anything Fae related. Slayers have run into them in the past, I've seen them mentioned in entries, but I don't remember who's diary. I'll get back to you." He drifted off, deep in thought, leaving the two cousins alone.

Lovell stared down at the tabletop, a sure sign he had something important to say to her, but wasn't sure how to put it.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"He's right. You need to be careful around Riddle."

Buffy's nose screwed up. "Is this about me being dragged into his bed? Because I said already, nothing happened. Okay, Abraxas' pasty butt scared me. Maybe, I'll have issues whenever I look at the moon and need counselling, but I'm good. I appreciate the worry, Lovell, but I can take care of myself."

"I know."

The smile he gave her gave Buffy a warm feeling inside; reminding her she had a loyal and loving extended family in this dimension.

"I'm more worried about Riddle's intelligence and..." He checked around, making sure they were still alone. Since Buffy had chosen a desk away from the most popular places to sit and death-glared anyone who came within range, no one was in sight. "Remember, how he let you back into the orphanage that night you sneaked out to see your mum? That was the night you killed the vampire."

Buffy looked at him blankly. "What vampire?"

"The one the Ministry is searching for. The one who was registered with them, the one who was about to feed off a Muggle, the one you staked with his own wand, the opera singing –"

"Sheesh! I know! You don't have to give every single detail to jog my memory," Buffy huffed. "How many vampires do you think I've dusted. Um, since I got my Slayer on."

"Ah." Lovell began counting them off on his fingers. "Well, beside him, there were the ones you staked in the graveyard when you rescued Walburga. That's four. Then there were five we met after sneaking out of the Blacks' house. I know you can't take the credit for killing them all, Grindelwald–"

Buffy's knee nudged his. "You-Know-Who rapidly approaching at ten o'clock. That's my ten o'clock, not yours. No, don't look over," she whispered. "Act natural."

Lovell promptly knocked over a pile of books with his elbow. Buffy groaned in exasperation.

"Buffy," he hissed, bending down and picking the books up. "What if Travers is right and Riddle is a Legilimens? I can't do Occlumency. I might have the wrong thoughts at the wrong time."

Buffy had never considered Tom would try reading her friends' minds. That could be... problematic. She didn't want to scare her cousin, but..."Um, I think Travers is right," she whispered back. "You just need to think of moths the next time you stare adoringly into his eyes."

Lovell stacked the books back on the table, and gave her a bemused look. "I don't look adoringly into his eyes! Why would you think I–"

"Shush." Buffy looked away, a bright smile on her face as Tom closed in on their study table. "And here's the tall guy who wears the other half of my chains. Speaking of, do I detect the itch of Dumbledore's used bondage gear about to make a reappearance?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Tom slid into the chair next to her, with a polite nod at Lovell.

Lovell's gaze shot to the floor. "Hi Riddle, sorry... I have to... um, go and study moths. My moth magazine!" Lovell was on his feet, his eyes looking everywhere other than in Tom's direction. "There's an article I want to read. It's about, um, about moth habitat." He scuttled off, almost tripping in his haste to get away.

"Is it something I said?" Tom asked, watching Lovell suspiciously.

"Nope!" Buffy fiddled with the pile of books. "Um, I guess Lovell's favourite moth magazine arrived. He always gets over-excited in case the moth spotters have spotted a new moth."

"Did you tell him that I am a parselmouth?" Tom rested his gaze on her, trying not to be distracted by how her nose scrunched up in confusion or the movement of her lips as she mouthed 'parselmouth'.

The Knut dropped. "Oh! You speaking snakey. Totally forgot! Um, didn't I promise to keep it a secret? I haven't broken that promise. I thought you didn't want it to become common knowledge?"

"I don't."

Aiming to distract his thoughts away from Lovell's behaviour, Buffy slipped her fingers into Tom's hand. "Here come the chains."

They watched as the bands formed around their wrists and the links hardened. Buffy took her hand from his and they both glared at the chains for a moment. Catching sight of each others' matching expressions, they shared a smile.

"Dumbledore is an arse," muttered Tom.

"Uh-huh." She took in the redness of his cheeks and the way his hair was mussed. "You cut returning close. If you'd left it much longer we'd have been dragged across the library floor on our stomachs. What kept you?"

"Dolohov." Tom pulled the book pile towards him and began perusing their titles. A couple were on Scottish traditions, one on folklore and a few on ancient weaponry. He was aware of Buffy watching and waiting for him to explain but pretended not to notice.

Buffy waited. "Anything you wanna share?"

"Not really. He made an insult about you when I was passing. I reprimanded him." Should he tell her what Dolohov had told him? He shrugged the idea off. Buffy already knew Von Kendrick was a threat to her. He wasn't going to insult her by telling her Von Kendrick thought she was a flobberworm.

"Guy's a creep."

A hint of a smile played across his lips. He saw one of the books had a bookmarked page and opened it to find an old line engraving of a milkmaid, a handsome youth reclining against her, his head in her lap. The following page showed the same man transforming into a horse, teeth barred chasing her towards a lake. A Pouka or a Kelpie perhaps? "Dolohov is most definitely a creep."

"Yet you're friends with him?"

"He's..." How best to describe Dolohov? A knight? A minion? Certainly not a friend, so Tom settled on, "...useful."

"I hope you persuaded him to keep away from me?"

That had him looking directly at her, a hint of something dark in his face. "I'm excellent at persuasion."

"Like you did with Marcus' dad?" Buffy watched him closely. "I still can't believe how you talked him around."

She'd sat there silently, watching Tom Riddle turn on his legendary charm and hadn't known what to make of it. He hadn't done anything weird, just listened attentively, occasionally making small noises of agreement and making the Minister relax and feel important. Then Tom had turned the conversation to their predicament, nodded when Lestrange voiced his disapproval and suggested he owl the Board Of Governors and Slughorn. To her amazement, the Minister had agreed.

Why had she never seen that side of Tom before? Oh, sure, she'd seen him playing Mr Perfect- Prefect with the teachers, but his beguiling of Minister Lestrange had been something else. He had a way of talking, making it hard to look away from him. Charisma, that's what he had. Why couldn't she do that?

Tom's dark eyes rested on her thoughtfully. "Not like with Minister Lestrange." He changed the subject sharply. "What did Travers want? He came from this direction when I entered the library." Without the slightest hesitation, Buffy looked him straight in the eye – sending his stomach into crazy somersaults.

She smiled as if she knew a secret and said, "Oh, Travers? I kinda persuaded him to research the Fae for me."

second A/N

firstly thank you to my beta for his work on this. Any mistakes you see please message or point out in the comments section.

Since I last posted I have had double pneumonia. The covid cleared and I became ill with an infection on my left lung and went to a walk-in centre for treatment. A few days later, I had a crushing feeling around my chest and that worsened until one morning I woke up with a crushing feeling around my body, and as if someone was driving a dagger into my heart. I rang 111 for advice. She said the ambulance will be with you in 30 mins. eeek!
I let them in and said I am not having a heart attack, its my lungs. They did a range of tests, declared that my heart rate was too high, my blood pressure was too low and suggested I go to A&E. They also said my lungs were completely clear. I thought this woman is bonkers, I could hear the crackling and wheezing sounds every time I dragged in a breath.

Got to the hospital, was triaged quite quickly and sat down again in the waiting room prepared for a several-hour wait. The nurse came back out and said, are you still having chest pains? I said yes and she sent me to an emergency care unit. The drs there examined me and heard numerous crackles coming from my left lung (stupid paramedic claimed both my lungs were clear).
I had blood tests, arterial blood tests, x-rays and scans. They thought I might have blood clots on my lungs but nope, just infection and inflammation on BOTH lungs. Double Pneumonia.

I was given strong antibiotics and sent home.
I have been resting and as I had nothing better to do produced a drug-fuelled chapter. lol.

I hope you enjoyed it?