Bella wasn't sure how long had gone by before something was reflecting light right into her left eye. She grimaced, lifting a pale hand up to block it, frowning when she saw Hermione Grange on the other side of the little glass window at the end of the carriage, waving her over with an air of urgency.
Hold that thought, Tom.
She didn't see what he wrote back, slipping the book into the pocket of her coat. She'd left her quill down on the table with her ink, and her book bag, slinking through the narrow gap between twin seats and tables facing one another to get over to the door at the very end of the carriage. No one else had noticed the bushy haired Gryffindor, and Bella would quite like to keep it that way. Hermione was not waiting alone, Fred and George were there along with their older brother Percy, the annoying Prefect, and little Ginny Weasley, who looked terribly upset. "Yes?"
"Harry and Ron haven't made it onto the train," Hermione explained quickly, "we've been up and down twice, no one's seen them."
"They were just behind us at King's Cross," Fred or George began.
"Well, we were running a bit late—"
"—do you think the barrier shuts if you're too late?" the first one finished for his twin.
"I've already told you all, the barrier never closes," Percy raised his nose in the air, "how else would all the parents get back to King's Cross after they wave us off? The muggles can't apparate away."
"You don't think..." Hermione looked quite worried.
"Yes, house elf magic would be strong enough to tamper with magical wards," Bella confirmed her suspicions with a nod, turning back to the Weasleys, "Harry had a run-in with a house elf this summer, he was trying to get him into trouble for his master. I suppose Malfoy's taken his tricks a little too far."
"Oh but what will we do?" Hermione panicked, "they can't get to Hogwarts!"
"Nonsense," Bella rolled her eyes at her dramatics, "do none of you have an owl? Send a letter ahead to your head of house, explain that Potter and Weasley have missed the train. Let the professors sort it out. Now, I don't know what has given you the impression that I enjoy being dragged into your Gryffindor shenanigans, but I'd quite like out. I've no time for mountain trolls and three-headed dogs this year, are we understood? Good. Carry on."
Bella might have offended them judging by the scowls on the Weasley's faces, but she tried not to care. People were starting to talk. She couldn't afford to have anything hinder her aspirations beyond Hogwarts, and it would be a rough road ahead if she were labelled a Blood Traitor. She didn't need friends anyway...they were distractions. She didn't need any more distractions.
Still, she noticed that the boys weren't anywhere to be seen at Hogsmeade station when they pulled in, and they continued to be missing at the start of school feast. Bella could see Professor McGonagall waiting at the steps by the entrance hall, quick to pull Hermione and the Weasleys away, speaking to them in hushed tones. It was evident then that something was very, very wrong. She forced herself to stop thinking about it. It's not your problem.
Midway through the feast, Bella noticed the professors stream out. McGonagall first, then Dumbledore. Snape had missing from the very start. Bella couldn't just ignore it. Half a lasagne slice later Dumbledore returned with a very displeased Professor Snape in tow. At the very last bite of her flan, McGonagall returned, taking a route right past the Gryffindor table at the far end from Bella so she could dip down by Hermione's ear. Bella watched the clever witch's shoulders sag with obvious relief and fought a smile. She looked away before the Gryffindors could notice her staring, returning to Tom's diary.
I think they made it to school.
What happened?
I'm not sure yet. I doubt I'll find out until the morning, the feast's nearly at an end.
Won't you see them in the common room?
No, they're Gryffindors.
Fraternizing with the enemy, are we? Aren't you a rebel.
I'm not in the habit of making enemies, at least, not to their faces. Things are much easier done when there aren't people trying to stop you at every turn.
Clever and pretty. I'm sure you'll have a busy year batting off the boys, little snake.
I've got more important things to do than think of boys, Tom.
Like the restricted section?
I told you, not tonight.
The school year began the next morning with little fanfare. By lunch, everyone had heart about Harry and Ron arriving at Hogwarts by flying car. It was front page news for the Daily Prophet, too, which was how Bella found out. They'd been seen by no less than seven muggles, yet somehow, the Ministry hadn't so much as sent them an owl. Gryffindors.
No, Bella didn't have time for them at all, she thought, trying hard to stick to her resolution to force some distance between them. Bella focused on her lessons, and every spare moment in between she was away with Tom beneath their tree or tucked in a corner of the library. Not even Gilderoy Lockhart in all his pompous pizzazz could bring down her happy little buzz. He wasn't quite as insufferable with Tom there, hidden with the pages of Break with a Banshee.
October rushed upon her faster before Bella could even notice. She hadn't been doing very well by then...all the late nights with Tom had come to bite her. The only time she'd tried to force herself into sleeping early, she'd had such a terrible nightmare she'd jolted awake by the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Belladonna Lestrange, sleepwalking. The very idea of it seemed utterly preposterous. Still, the sleep deprivation developed rapidly into exhaustion, which developed rapidly into lack of appetite, and thus, when a sudden spate of colds spread among both staff and students, Bella had little fight left in her to pass through unscathed. Tom bullied her into going to Madam Pomfrey for a Pepperup Potion, which, though immediately effective, left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards. Bella looked like a vampire with a trail of mist following her wherever she went, leaking out through her fine raven hair. Still, for weeks after, the drudgy feeling lingered.
She does manage to get to the Restricted Section, at least, for a copy of Most Potente Potions courtesy of Gilderoy Lockhart (who had been quite delighted to sign her an autograph without looking at its contents), and she begins working on the potion Tom had told her about in a cave he'd discovered by the edge of the Black Lake. The extra workload bore down on her, though, and Tom had begun to notice. He worried over her, especially since the potion would take at least a month to brew and she couldn't afford to stop in the middle. He suggested she tried taking naps after her classes, when the sun was still up and she'd be less likely to face haunted dreams of a monster with red eyes.
Bella woke up on the morning of Halloween with a sense of dread. It was her fifteenth birthday, of course she should be happy, but she hadn't spoken to the Gryffindors in months and it wasn't like most of them knew her birthday anyway. There were the usual birthday wishes in her classes, and the song from Flitwick, then there was the standard gift from Fester on behalf of her grandmother, and a cupcake with a single candle at breakfast. For the most part, though, the day seemed just like any other day. The feast would be nice, she supposed. Hagrid's unnaturally vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment. Bella only hoped there wouldn't be another mountain troll to make her miss it.
Tom was excited, though. He'd promised her a special birthday surprise, and he seemed adorably akin to a toddler at Christmas about the whole thing. Bella had assumed it would be a poem or a drawing, perhaps, through the pages of his diary. Still, she found her spirits a little lifted feeding off his eagerness. When her last class let out, Tom asked her to go up to her dorm and make certain she was alone before she wrote to him. And so she did as she was told, expecting the little window of light in the middle page to be just another memory.
It wasn't. Tom Riddle was waiting for her in an unfamiliar empty chamber with a smile and a bouquet of flowers wrapped up in crumpled brown paper. Bella frowned. It was as if he was looking right at her, a crooked, dimpled grin fixed over his perfect face. She took a wary step forward, then stopped, staring again at the flowers. She recognised them from her herbology textbook. "Belladonna Delphinium."
"They grow in a field just within the forbidden forest," he answered, voice deeper than she'd ever expect. He spoke calm and slow, his tone soothing—except Bella wasn't soothed at all. She leapt back, eyes wide, hand instinctively clutching for a wand that wasn't there. Tom laughed. It wasn't just delight...it was cruel, as if he'd just pulled off a terribly clever trick. "Bella, I'm not going to bite you."
"I...," she shook herself out of her stupor, relaxing now, features softening into wonder, "how is this possible? How can you—you can see me?"
"I didn't know I could do it either," Tom's eyes soften, "I...well, I've never wanted to. Before."
And there went her heart. He offered the bouquet to her, smiling again as he tilted his head, that adorable little curl flopping over his pale forehead, "are you going to say hello properly or not?"
Bella grinned. A thought had come to her, and idea...a terrible, terrible idea that she knew she shouldn't—oh but I must. Her stride was confident, surging forward to close the space between them. She ignored the flowers he held out for her, a part of her igniting when she sees the confusion crossing his face before those inkwell blue eyes shot wide open. It's too late for him, then. Half a second—she slips into the space between the bouquet and the hard chest beneath his school uniform, a soft hand curling around his sharp jaw. She could feel him against her skin, feel that he was real...as real as she was, at least, in this moment, and that was all that mattered. The inches between them disappeared as she pressed up on her tip toes, pressing her soft lips against his.
And with her kiss, Tom Riddle turned into a statue.
A heartbeat. Her ears burn. Her stomach somersaults. And then he's everywhere, all over her, all at once, arms wrapping tight around the small of her back, those vicious, poisonous flowers pressed against her clothed arm. He lifts her a little off her toes in his desperation, until there isn't any air between them. Her fingers move from his jaw to his hair, scratching against his scalp, tugging at the fine, short strands. Her cheeks are wet—tears, she'll realize later, burning hot from her disbelief that this was real, this was happening, he was here. Here with her. His lips move against hers, soft, wet, violent. And then his tongue is in her mouth, and his teeth are on her bottom lip, and this isn't what she'd planned at all. Bella makes a noise, it catches in her throat, a protest, a prayer, a mewl. It seems to drive Tom mad.
This isn't how Bella had imagined her first kiss. She's imagined something sweet, something innocent, something romantic. A peck. This isn't that. She'd waited too long. Imagined this too much. She need this out of her. She wanted to consume him the way he had her.
But Tom doesn't want that. He stopped her, pushed her away by her shoulders, pants hard for breath as he keeps her there, his forehead warm against hers. He pulls her against his chest so she can't distract him again, "stop, stop. Wait. Not yet. Not yet."
Shame burns white hot through her. She feels dirty. What's wrong with you? What has gotten into you? But Tom chuckled breathlessly, and her stomach was still doing funny things as her cheeks burned. He leaned back enough to catch a look at her face as she tried to hide it against his chest. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"
"I just needed to make sure you were real," Bella rushed for an excuse, making him grin. She rolled her eyes, "oh shut it, I'm not the one who took things too far."
"No, I should apologise," he agreed, smiling down at her, "I have a very unfortunate habit of forgetting myself when i'm around you. You're very...distracting, Bella."
She didn't like hearing him say her name. It sounded to good on his tongue, as if he'd practiced the effect he was sure he'd have on her. And he did. He knew he did. It made her blood boil. "Thank you for my surprise."
"Oh this isn't your surprise," his eyes sparkled, "come on, I've got a whole evening planned."
It was the best birthday Bella had ever had, though she would never admit that to Tom. His head was quite big enough already after she'd kissed him. And before. Still, she appreciated the effort he'd gone through. They were still in his memories, Bella believed, though Tom seemed capable of manipulating them in a very limited way. Time stood frozen all around them. Birds remained in their place mid-flight in the skies, the students of Hogwarts caught mid-motion as if someone had broken a time-turner.
He took Bella out to their spot under the tree, and conjured up a picnic. The food seemed to taste only how Tom remembered them to, and it never filled her stomach, but Bella was quite glad for that as Tom insisted he'd have her back before she could miss another Halloween feast. After they were done, he took her out on the lake in one of the boats the first years used to get to Hogwarts from the train. Bella laughed as she splashed him with water and he glared venomously at her in utter betrayal. They talked for what felt like hours, and, twice, Bella conjured up the courage to kiss him again. Softer, this time. Never for long. He grinned every time as if he'd just won himself the House Cup, and his smug joy made Bella feel powerful, because she was desired, because she could make him that happy.
Still, the bittersweet feeling lingered. Bella was falling in love with a boy who didn't exist. She knew that. He knew that. There was no future here, for her. Bella imagined herself old and grey, visiting Tom in his memories where he remained ever-seventeen. They would find her withered body lying dead in the study one day, with nothing but a book in her arms. She couldn't have this, she knew, but it had quickly become all she yearned for.
When Bella came to, she was already at the Halloween Feast, which seemed a very odd thing. Her plate was already full and the diary was right beside it, as it always was, with a quill tucked within its pages and an ink bottle by her half-empty goblet. Bella frowned. Had she...was her body still there, while she was gone with Tom? She'd always assumed she'd entered the diary in her entirety. The implication that she was somehow still out there, running on autopilot, entirely out of control of her body left her itchy all over. She felt violated.
Tom, what happens to my body when I'm with you?
Whatever do you mean?
I went to visit you in the book while I was in my dorm, alone. I just got back here and I'm at the Halloween Feast. I think I've already started to eat, without my knowing.
And you don't remember how you got there?
You didn't send me here?
Bella, I can't see you when you're not with me, remember? All I can see is your ink.
Tom, I don't like this. I don't know what I've done in the time I've been gone, I don't like not being in control of my own body.
Don't get into a panic about it, just ask your friends.
She didn't have any to ask, but she wasn't going to tell Tom that.
Bella, you trust me, don't you?
You know I would never hurt you. I'm not sure what's happened but I assure you I had no part in it. I can bring you into my world, but I can't do anything outside of the confines of these pages. My magic can only go so far. You know that, don't you?
Bella frowned, still unsettled. She wanted to believe Tom, she did, but something was very very wrong.
I know. I'm sorry I accused you.
That's alright, I can understand your fear. I too would be suspicious if I had been in your shoes. Perhaps we can try to figure this out together, hmm? Later.
For now, finish your dinner. I still have plans for the little birthday girl.
That sounds awfully vulgar, Mr. Riddle.
Those sort of surprises can wait until your seventeenth birthday, not tonight.
Tom!
Dinner. Then write to me when you're in bed.
Bella had been perhaps a little over-eager, understandably, to get to bed once the dancing skeletons were done and the puddings were gone. She'd pushed her way towards the front of the throng of students, but not front enough, apparently, to notice why a great wall of them had stopped short. And why, at once, there was pin-drop silence in the halls of Hogwarts.
It was a grisly sight. Far ahead of them, foot-high words had been daubed on a wall between two windows in a still-wet scarlet substance, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Bella felt a cold dread spread through her veins. She knew all about the Chamber of Secrets, it was Slytherin house's favourite legend. And that was all it was supposed to be. A legend. If this was true...Hermione...
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
She'd recognise that sniveling voice anywhere. Draco Malfoy had pushed himself in front of the crowd, his cold eyes ablaze, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at something Bella hadn't yet noticed. Her eyebrows furrowed over bewildered, wide eyes. Is that a cat?
"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd, catching Bella in the ribs with his sharp elbow. She scowled at his back, rubbing the sore spot. One look at Mrs. Norris and he fell back, clutching his ragged face in horror.
"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.
And his popping eyes fell on Harry—Harry, who happened to be standing at the scene of the crime with Ron and Hermione. Harry, who'd been suspiciously missing from the feast yet again along with his friends. Harry, who always seemed to be at the worst place at the worst time. Bella was suddenly very grateful she'd cut ties with the Gryffindors, this was a headache she could very much do without.
"You!" Filch screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—
"Argus!"
Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other professors. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.
The crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors Mcgonagall and Snape. Percy the Prefect crowed out first. "Well? What're you all waiting for? Off to your dorms! Nothing to see here! Move along!"
Most of the Slytherins were gleeful. There hadn't been a single muggleborn in their house for as long as anyone had ever known, and the entire house knew everything there was to know about the legend of Slytherin's chamber. As far as they were concerned, they had nothing to worry about. But Bella was worried, no matter how hard she tried not to be. Her little Gryffindors were starting to become a menace. She thought it ridiculous, of course, that Harry Potter could write that warning on the wall and hang up that cat. And Hermione, of all people, would never help him. No, they weren't involved, they'd just happened upon it. But who did it? Tom needed to know. He could help her, she was sure—
Bella had reached her bed and stopped dead after setting out her ink pot and quill. There, beneath her usually perfectly-groomed nails—no, probably just some jelly—but it wasn't.
There was blood beneath her nail-beds. And, upon inspection, blood on the collar of her shirt. Just a smudge. Unnoticeable, beneath her silky hair. But it was there.
And the writing on the wall had been written in blood...in her perfect handwriting.
Tom, promise me you don't know what happens to my body when I'm with you?
Of course I don't. Have you asked your friends what happens when you're with me? I'm quite concerned myself.
She did. Callidora Nott gave her a very funny look, but she insisted Bella had been with them the whole time and hadn't been at all out of character. It didn't soothe Bella's frayed nerves. It was too much of a coincidence. Tom was waiting for her when she got changed and climbed into her bed.
What's happened? You seemed upset.
Someone's played a very awful trick. And, of course, Harry got in trouble for it.
The way you describe that boy seems to me he's always in the thick of it.
Gryffindors.
What was the trick?
There was a message on a wall when we got out from the feast. "The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware." And they killed the caretaker's cat. Hung it up on a lamp by the big red letters. It looked like blood. I only got spooked because I found some on my shirt collar.
Well that does sound very on-theme for Halloween. As for the blood on your collar, perhaps you popped a pimple without noticing? I'm sure there's a logical explanation.
Bella fumed at once.
I don't get pimples, Riddle.
Of course not. How rude of me to suggest. Your skin is flawless, I assure you.
I might forgive you if you let me visit for a proper goodnight. It is still my birthday, after all.
Now who's being devilishly vulgar?
