Tom was surprised by his own patience while he waited for Hermione to join him in the Room. She had been released from the hospital several hours prior, though getting settled at the school again had prevented her from making her way to the seventh floor sooner. All of her friends had been anxious to verify her wellbeing. Even Theron's mostly aloof and sarcastic snot of a boy had hugged her fiercely and promised to stun her if he ever saw such a Gryffindor glint in her eyes again.

She had written to him while she was at the hospital, which had alleviated some of Tom's boredom and discomfort with her absence. Supposedly, Abraxas had stopped by the school for her bag and to instruct one of the house elves to keep an eye on her cat while she was away. Abraxas had also assured her that the house elf in question was formerly staffed at Proserpine Park, and still bound to Tom, but was granted a leave of sorts and allowed to work at Hogwarts for several years.

Tom had watched her eye their diary with great hesitation before she finally dug out a quill and wrote to him. Her initial summary of events was brief and her frown deepened with each question he asked, prying details he already knew out of her.

Thankfully, her return coincided with his canceled fifth-period Herbology class on an otherwise free Saturday afternoon. Tom was able to leave his sole class of the day —fourth period Transfiguration— and spend the remainder of his day in the Room of Requirement keeping an eye on her as she adjusted to being back at school. She wouldn't return to classes until the following day, thankfully. She'd told him that the decision to postpone her full return to classes was partly to give her a day to get used to being back in her original environment and also to make sure she was actually well enough to be back in the castle.

She didn't rush up the stairs when she finally headed his way, taking her time. Her energy was sometimes inconsistent, a temporary side effect of having her budding obscurus removed, she'd told him. Crookshanks bound along around her, scampering up and down the stairs as she ascended to the seventh floor at a cautious pace.

Abraxas and Flynn knew he wanted to talk with her privately before giving them a chance to welcome her back to the castle, which left him alone waiting for her.

His fingers twitched around the necklace in his pocket. Soon, she'd be as safe as he could presently make her.

He cast a finite to end vigilio. If he wasn't magically interacting with her side of time, his perception of its passage would go back to normal, meaning the last few moments of his waiting would go by faster. But he still stood up, tired of drumming his fingers on the armrest of the sofa. Sitting still had been uncomfortable for too long. Regardless of the mental exercises that normally calmed his thoughts— nightmares notwithstanding —no amount of effort was able to keep him from fidgeting since he watched his older self leave her at the school.

Being in his sight and presence was not a guarantee for her safety, Tom understood that now. However, it would ensure her survival when danger arose, even if being able to look through time was risky and often confusing.

He had recognized the neutrality of occlumency in his own face, in Flynn's, in Abraxas's. It came and went depending on what was going on around Dove at the time. Sometimes questions she asked triggered neutral caution as well.

Tom was keeping vigilio a secret on both sides of time, except he had no idea how long the spell's existence would remain hidden from her. He intended to share it with her eventually… but would he be able to?

If she could use it too, then when their schedules overlapped during holidays, they could still study together. They could still see one another. The risk of him becoming out of sight out of mind during their holiday-long separations could be negated.

Then no one could take her brilliant, confusing little mind from him while he was away for the summer.

The door opening stilled him. Finally.

She was quietly talking to her half-kneazle as they entered, though she glanced up, looking for him. The door clicked shut behind her as their eyes met.

Her aura was better. She stood a bit straighter. The obscurus he'd unwittingly sensed was definitely gone.

A chill itched down his spine, but it wasn't quite relief. She'd been in danger for weeks and he hadn't even known beyond sensing her discontent. And even without a deadly parasite in her brain, she was still showing signs of hesitation around him that hadn't been present with his older self.

"It's always something with you, isn't it?" he asked.

Her lips quirked at the edges and she shrugged. Tom offered her his hand.

She walked deeper into the room, shrugging off her bag as she passed their sofa. Once she dropped it among the cushions on her side, she stepped towards him.

Her fingertips were cold.

"I forget you're in an entirely different season sometimes," he muttered.

He didn't tug her closer so much as he guided her arm towards his torso, preferring to wrap his own around her shoulders today. She closed the distance without his encouragement— her face pressing into his shoulder since she wasn't tall enough for her chin to sit atop it instead. He imagined she never would be.

Her normally endearing smallness was once again a source of discomfort for him. Small things were easier to break. His fingers itched to grab her necklace and fasten it before she had a chance to react, but he couldn't.

"Nothing hurts?" he asked, ghosting his fingertips through her hair. She hit her head where he usually toyed with her curls to keep his fingers busy. But he wasn't sure if there was still an injury he needed to avoid.

"All healed," she murmured against his robes.

"No scars?"

"No scars. You checked already."

Tom was still gentle as he wove his fingers into the warm, tamed stands. One particularly thick clump wrapped around his thumb, briefly bringing the heavy signet ring Abraxas wore to mind.

"I know you thought you were safe," he said, keeping his tone even. The itching under his skin had mostly subsided with her near again, but he couldn't shake the image of her cold and bleeding and unconscious from his mind. "But I'd prefer you dropped Gryffindor recklessness from your skillset."

She snorted softly. "Told you I'm only brave when my friends are in danger."

Tom scoffed. "I'd rather not live through you dying on both sides of time, if it's all the same to you, Dove. I can't imagine necromancy and chronomancy combine well."

"Why would you dabble in necromancy anyway?" she asked. "That's beyond dangerous and darker than anything else we've studied."

"Don't get yourself killed and I won't have to," he said tersely.

She made a sarcastic noise in the back of her throat. "Fair enough. Any other conditions or are you done being quietly mulish?"

He gently, pointedly, tugged her hair in annoyance. "There is one other thing…"

Tom wasn't sure why he hesitated. It wasn't obvious enough for her to notice, just a barely-there twitch of his fingers before he properly freed her necklace from his pocket.

"I will continue choosing not to be cross with you for chasing after a broomstick in a thunderstorm…" he began slowly, "but only if you never take this off."

She pulled back from his shoulder, though he refused to let her go any farther. He did, however, hold up the protective bauble for her inspection.

Her expression shuttered, save for the widening of her pupils that bellied her surprise.

"It's enchanted, of course," he said when she didn't immediately bombard him with questions. "That's why you can't take it off. I can only guarantee it's capable of protecting you if you're wearing it. You can wear it while you bathe, we charmed it against being affected by that sort of thing already. And you can adjust the clasp, but you cannot take it off."

"It's a snake," she said softly, inspecting the design. "I'll have to hide it under my robes while I'm still a Gryffindor...or lie and say it's a gift from Draco maybe…"

Tom rolled his eyes. "I don't care how you excuse it away so long as you don't. take. it. off."

"Alright."

He was too stunned by her easy compliance to respond at first. Hermione resumed resting her head against his shoulder, letting him take a moment to process just how simple the situation had become.

Why hadn't she fought his orders? She should have at least demanded a detailed explanation first or insisted to know what charms he built into the trinket-turned-talisman before agreeing to wear it at all times. Instead, he was faced with zero hesitation and her complete willingness to cooperate— just like Abraxas and Flynn had theorized...

Tom wracked his mind, trying to clear some sort of reason out of the confused jumble his thoughts had turned into. What could those two idiots have possibly figured out about her that Tom didn't already know himself? How had they been able to guess her response so accurately when they'd known her for far less time than he had?

"Turn around," he murmured, leaning his cheek against her hair for a moment before loosening his hold so she could pull away. "And lift your hair. I'll clasp it for you."

He immediately found the absence of her warmth unpleasant, though he ignored it and focused on draping the silver chain around her neck. As he moved to fasten the clasp, he hesitated again.

One simple, silent incantation would make it impossible for anyone but himself to remove the necklace from her person. If he cast the spell, her compliance was guaranteed. If he didn't, there was always the chance that she would decide to go back on her word.

The clasp fastened silently. He let the chain rest against her skin.

As the enchantments activated and aligned themselves to their intended subject, she shivered. "What'd you charm this with?" she asked. "That was quite a pulse of magic just then."

The magic of the necklace settled until the hum of its power was low enough to be concealed by the modified notice-me-not charm worked into it. The last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to take any extra notice of her. A pendant radiating magical energy would attract far too much attention from any witch or wizard with even a modicum of magical awareness to their name.

"Everything I could manage," he said softly. The back of the chain rested just below the last few strands of baby curls against her neck, normally hidden by the mass of hair she released a half-second later. Tom shrugged when she spun around to face him, dropping her curls back into place. "Dementors and a fugitive on the loose? Nevermind your seemingly endless ability to find trouble this year? I'd prefer you were still alive when I get back from holiday if it's all the same to you, Dove. Your premature demise seems more likely by the day."

She glared at him. "If anyone needs this, it's probably Harry, but...I appreciate it and it's very pretty… so thank you."

Tom rolled his eyes again. "It quite literally takes two of me to keep you alive, and you still think Potter's the one in danger?" He shook his head in disbelief, then flicked her between the eyes for being dense.

Her protest was habit by now, as was his inclination towards ignoring her threats to harm his person. Behind her tiny, ranting form, the doorknob turned again.

Tom's eyes flicked over her shoulder, catching the quick shades of surprise on Abraxas and Flynn's faces before they schooled their expressions into passivity.

Tom gave them a slight nod when she turned toward the noise, granting them nonverbal permission to stay.

"There you two are!" Hermione said cheerfully.

"Welcome back, Birdie," Flynn said with a grin. "Any battle scars from your dementor showdown?"

"Nah," she said. "Tom and Theron patched me up too fast."

"Interesting choice of words," Tom muttered bitterly. "Considering you had a severe head injury. "

Dove made a flippant gesture with one hand. "As you so aptly put it, I have two Tom Riddles preventing my untimely demise. And with that fact acknowledged, one can technically assume I was never actually in any danger."

Tom's eyes narrowed. How she was finding humor in her near- death experience was beyond his comprehension. The glimmer of mischief in her eyes grew brighter when his only response to her teasing was a scowl.

"In fact," she continued, all airs and playfulness that he was pleased to see had returned, but was already losing patience for given the subject matter. "I probably don't even need this lovely new neck-"

Tom grabbed her by the hair, feeling the chain through her curls, and pulled it just tight enough to cut her off with a small squeak. A silent spell kept the necklace chain from breaking as it strained against her skin.

"While I'm pleased to see you almost fully back to rights, Dove," he began lowly, "if you take off this necklace because you decide my presence makes you invincible, I'll be inspired to remind you that you're not."

She twisted in his hold and tried, he thought, to match his threatening posture.

"I already told you I'd leave it on, you prat," she snapped. "I'm messing with you because you still have a massive bleeding stick up your arse and you have for what feels like ages!"

"My sincerest apologies, Dove," he sneered. "Though perhaps I'd be a bit more amiable if I could sleep in peace instead of spending most of my mental energy trying to figure out how to keep the single most accident-prone third year in Hogwarts history alive."

She opened her mouth to spit some waspish remark or other at him, but a realization stole the wind from her sails.

"You haven't been sleeping?" she asked. "Is it O. ? I meant it when I said I could come up here less—OW— Tom quit!"

He loosened his grip on her roots. "I'm not apologizing. I already told you not to worry about my O. ."

"Then why aren't you sleeping?" she demanded. "And why haven't you tried to get potions from the infirmary to help you sleep if it's a consistent problem?"

"Keeping you alive is stressful and so was figuring out the wardwork for your necklace," he answered tersely.

Her anger seeped away again and he raised a brow. Surely this sort of emotional gymnastics was exhausting.

But before he could sneer at her to quit being a girl, she launched herself at him in much the same way that he'd watched her throw herself at Harry and Draco at least a dozen times since vigilio's inception.

"Dove?" he asked, bewildered. She never hugged him without an invitation, least of all when annoyed at him or in the presence of Abraxas and Flynn. Half the time he had to remind her to hug him goodbye before she left for the night.

Was the obscurus why she behaved differently towards him than she did to her other companions? Or the root of the issue? Or was something else bothering her now?

"I'm sorry if I worried you," she murmured into his shoulder. "I wouldn't have teased you about it like that if I'd known it bothered you that much."

Tom stared at her hair in confusion. "I wasn't under the impression that your recent string of misfortunes was brought on intentionally."

"They weren't," she grumbled.

Tom hummed, releasing the necklace and her hair to tangle her fingers between her curls more gently. "Then only the latter half of your apology is necessary…" he said. "The necklace does not come off."

She nodded her agreement against his shoulder.

"Then your teasing is forgiven. Now come along. We can help you get your assignments caught up before starting on O. revision again."

Her cheeks were a slightly dusty pink when she pulled away. Tom silently took note of how she avoided their gazes even after they settled into their sofas.

It struck him as a peculiar display of shyness and embarrassment, especially coming from someone who was regularly much more unrestrained in their affection with her other companions. On her side of time, her companionship with him was of roughly the same duration as her friendship with Draco, yet she never shied away from affectionate gestures with the latter.

He also couldn't help but notice that her response to his brief lapse in control had not caused her to run from him. She was bitter about it, but she'd challenged him back. Threatened him with her posture and her eyes. The gesture had been small— corrective —not truly intending to cause much harm, but still. She hadn't run from him.

His palms burned with the itch to find her limit for his temper, but he couldn't. That would certainly be far riskier of an act than his momentary loss of patience.

Tom was more puzzled by her behavior than he'd ever been by the time she left the room that night, her cheeks still faintly pinkened and her aura thankfully free of the obscurus's dark stain.

"Did you wind up charming the necklace?" Flynn asked once she was gone. "To prevent her from taking it off?"

"No," Tom answered. "Aside from her questionable sense of humor, she didn't argue when I explained how important it was that she kept it on. I made a note for myself just in case I change my mind. The list of things to remember grows by the week, and the necklace being removable might be a detail I forget or overlook if it's temporary."

"And if it's not?" Abraxas asked. "It's still a small necklace. If she gets attacked with enough power, the necklace would likely break absorbing it. But with vigilio servo we will hopefully know if and when such a thing happens."

"And have a stronger replacement already made," said Flynn. "I'm glad she was reasonable about it, even if the dementors are being removed from the grounds soon like she said. That Pettigrew bloke is still a problem."

"Yes," Tom agreed, eyes narrowing. "Pettigrew is a wild card until he's caught. Hopefully we're on his trail in her time."

If they weren't, Tom certainly hoped Pettigrew would be found by the end of her third year. He'd never get any sleep if the shadow of a rogue murderer was doomed to hang over her entire scholastic career.

A/N: Hi! Consider this my Valentine's gift to all of you! Whether you're participating in this non-sense money-grab holiday or not, Diary is your guaranteed valentine this year, ya hear? ;)