Author's note: Hi beautiful Muggles! Sorry for the delay, I intended to post yesterday but did not manage. Thank you so so much for reading, commenting, favouriting, following this story! Have a lovely week!

October 1943 - Special Award for Services to the School

"Come on, tell me, what's that private club you were talking about when I arrived?!"

"It's confidential"

The autumnal sun was casting shadows on the castle's park, dark and light patches sprinkling the green of the lawn. The leaves of the trees around them rustled in a faint breeze and Tom enjoyed the cool air on his neck.

"What's so confidential about it?"

"What in the word 'confidential' do you not get?" chided Leonus Nott as he lit the cigarette he had in mouth. The girl stole it from him, taking a few puffs herself before the boy snatched it back.

"It's a boys only club anyway" added the boy with a disdainful air while the Ravenclaw hurled back some insults in protest.

Tom repressed a sigh at the two of them bickering.

The school was hosting a "Career Day" in the Great Hall, which Tom had initially not intended to join. Yet, he had made a very brief apparition, out of politeness, but once Slughorn was done introducing him off to his various acquaintances, the prefect had run off and found a quiet place to read. In no shape or form did Tom wish to be associated with the students who ridiculously stood in line to network with the people from the Ministry. He knew damn well what he wanted to do after school. And that did not include coaxing any civil servants into giving him a job…

The young man returned to his book, trying to ignore his former dorm-mate who had joined him shortly after, interrupting his blissful tranquility. Yet, he tolerated his company, for Nott had substantial news to share. "It's an absolute success. People are more than excited about the next meeting" he had disclosed eagerly.

Since the holidays, the word had spread within some circles that the Sixth Year prefect of Slytherin would teach the basics of the Dark Arts to a few cherry-picked people. Naturally, those who were interested in such learning were those who perceived the Muggle-born kids as a threat… Tom had been worried by such helplessness. Those kids were in great need of a leader, and Tom had decided to help them. After all, as the heir, was it not his duty to provide care and support to his fellow Slytherins?

So Tom had set up a dueling club, a seemingly innocent reason to gather a great number of people without drawing attention. Besides, with what happened the previous year, the students' desire to protect themselves was only normal. Something Tom was well-intended to remind Dippet would the school's staff ever get suspicious of what they were now doing on Friday nights, in the lower-storeys of the castle…

The young man was jolted out of his thoughts because of two silhouettes approaching. He recognised his blond friend, and the girl next to him.

"Leonus, why wouldn't you go back to the castle and show Elena the Room of Requirement?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "We just discovered it last week" he lied, his eyes turned to Nott's sweetheart who gasped in excitement.

Once the couple was out of sight, Alastair pretended being late for his Quidditch practice. Soon enough all were gone, to the exception of that one girl who stood there, her lithe and slender shade against the clear afternoon sky.

"Sit down" Tom asked, indicating with a tilt of the head his jacket that was on the ground next to him.

Annabel probed him from her silver eyes before she kneeled down next to him.

He had been meaning to talk to her for weeks... To no avail. Each time, he was either collared by Slughorn in one corridor, or snowed under the countless questions of the First Years. She, on the other hand, seemed to be gone, and when he finally managed to locate her, she was always surrounded by her friends.

Tom had not been able to find a single minute where he could be alone with her despite the fact that he so desperately sought her company. For purely educational reasons, naturally…

Now that the OWLs were over, Tom intended to resume to searching more about Horcruxes. He had spend some time during the summer break trying to decipher her notes. She had done some translation work for him, in exchange of his teaching of the Boggart-banishing spell last winter, but her annotations, on top of being barely legible, seriously lacked consistency.

"Do you remember this?" he questioned as he handed her a bundle of parchments. She nodded, glancing at the first page.

"Some things remain pretty obscure" he added. "I would like to have a look at this again, together. Would you be available any time soon?"

She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"When?"

"Tonight? Nine o'clock, near the portrait of Temeritus Shanks"

—

Annabel was slightly out of breath when she finally dragged herself on the last step of the sixth floor. She glanced around, found the painting near where she was meant to meet the Slytherin. With two hands on the railing, the girl peeked down the stairwell but the prefect was nowhere to be seen.

Her eyes caught sight of her own reflection in the polished armour on her left and she glanced at herself for a second. She touched up her hair sprucely before she pulled out a tube of lipstick from her pocket.

"Are you going on a date?" asked a voice behind her that made her start. The girl turned around, acknowledging the painting behind her in which the supposedly Temeritus Shanks was staring at her. He was wearing puffed up trousers and a pointy headgear. She frowned, yet ignored the wizard's comment as she resumed to applying some red on her lips.

"You would look better without make-up"

"And you'd look better without your stupid hat" she snapped back with a black look before she put away her lipstick tube. She squeezed her lips together to spread the red on her skin when the sound of hastened footsteps pierced the silence. Annabel turned around and found Tom going up the stairs.

"It's quite the workout to get here" she jested, yet acknowledging how effortlessly the young man had climbed the last flight of steps. Annabel was lean but clearly untrained, and six storeys had felt like an intense cardio training.

The prefect flashed her an amused smile and walked past her.

"One gets used to it" he simply replied before he asked her to follow him. He led her to the end of the corridor and stopped in front of a door.

"Is that another of your secret storeroom?" she queried as she recalled how he had brought her to one hidden repository on the second-floor, back in June. Annabel dismissed the memory of how Tom had tried to pacify her that one day, as she had felt plagued by doubts. With a shiver, she recalled how the young man had pressed her back against the wall before his cool hands had cupped her face. Her souvenirs snowballed as she found herself lying next to him in that bed once more, his strong body against hers.

The girl almost let out as a sob as she bit the inside of her mouth. She had promised herself not to think about that night again. Not in Hogwarts… Especially not next to him.

"So?" she pressed, impatiently but Tom only shot her a mysterious glance as he pulled out his wand from his pocket. With a whisper, he casted a spell on the handle and the door opened with a light creak. The young man placed his hand on the wooden panel to open the door further, waiting for the girl to get in. Annabel frowned, startled.

A bedroom?

She walked in, taking in the room. It was vast, much bigger than her dorm, with a chimney and a sitting corner, a desk and a double-bed.

"It used to be the office for the potion's master assistant. When Hogwarts still hired apprentices" explained the young man as he locked the door behind them and headed towards his desk.

Annabel nodded, speechless as she glanced at the lavish curtains and the immense carpet. A fancy mirror was hanging above the fireplace, and a cup of fresh fruits had been placed on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch, marvelled by such opulence.

"When I think that every dorm is cramped because of the muggle war, and yet such rooms exist…" she wondered out loud.

"It's all about privilege" he agreed and she nodded absentmindedly.

Her eyes wandered to Tom who was taking off his robe and jacket, discarding the clothes on the bed behind him. She only realised she was staring when she saw his fingers slid through the knot of his necktie.

She felt her face get warm and she coyly averted his gaze.

"Since when are you sleeping here?" she asked, her cheeks burning all the more at the thought that he had surely noticed her blush. "By Merlin Annabel, calm the f- down" she scolded herself mentally before she glanced up, feigning to be mesmerised by the ceiling fresco.

"Since the beginning of the year"

"It came as an add-on to the Special Award for the Services to the School" he declared and she heard him throw the piece of fabric on the mattress.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

If her mother had been there, she would have told her daughter that accepting a drink from a man in his own bedroom was far from appropriate. Dangerous, even. Yet she agreed, her head nodding ever so slightly and she heard him pour her a glass of ale.

Tom walked back to the couch, her translation and their drinks in hand. He sat down next to her, close, and she felt herself suddenly overwhelmed. Something began to pulsate in her belly, something warm and nice. She felt the weight of Tom's body on the couch next to her as he shower her the first page of her work.

She grimaced at the sight of her notes.

"I'll grant you that my writing is catastrophic" she apologised and he let out a small laugh.

"I think I became fairly accustomed to your handwriting by now" he added, and she understood that he hinted at their summery correspondence.

"What I am curious about is more the content than the form" he clarified as he turned a few pages until he reached a part where symbols and drawings were adorning the page.

"Some things are rather unclear"

"Here for example, you wrote 'inanimate beings' but here you referred to 'spiritless items'" he explained, his voice surprisingly soft.

He took another paper on which he had added his own notes in red ink, his writing neat and elegant, just like he was.

She watched the prefect turn another page, his long finger grazing the paper as he pointed at some terms.

"Same thing here. You mentioned something about 'the afterlife' but before you talked about 'the other side'… Surely I understand that this text was difficult but I would really appreciate it if you could help me figure this out" he concluded.

Annabel became suddenly conscious of his voice that exquisitely resonated in her ear, that his arm was brushing against hers.

She drew a deep breath, the sudden urge to step away gripping her. The girl stood up, glancing at her watch while she felt his powerful glance probing her. Her glass still in hand, she finally mustered the courage to look up and meet his gaze.

"Sure" she said after she cleared her throat. "You helped me with the Boggart so it's only normal that I fulfil my part of the bargain" she managed to respond.

"I'll meet you tomorrow at the same time" she nodded before she dropped her glass on the coffee table and left his room.