Seriously, the next twenty four hours have ended far too quickly for her taste. In a blink, she was awake in the dorm. With another one, she was at the first class of the day, then at the last one, and then with another blink, Riddle is now waiting for her to walk faster in direction of the school's library.
"Faster, Floquet. We don't have all the time in the world."
"You have all the time in the world to go fuck yourself," is not what she actually says. Instead, a bunch of unintelligible words get out of her mouth in a slur.
She is scared like hell. Anytime now, the devil could drag her into an empty room, use her as a dummy for his excellent practice of dark arts and then her corps could be lying dead in a corner for the next two months until someone finally notices the missing Slytherin's outcast too late. Doesn't it sound romantic.
They reach the library after a long stroll across the castle, and like she thought, they receive a lot of glances from the few students Eileen considered masochistic enough to have come study in there right after the end of the interminable lessons. Riddle chooses a spot far away from the inquisive gazes and thus, impermeable to the small noises from the people's coming and going as well as the murmurs throughout the entire place. The table is large enough for two. Riddle takes a seat in front of the little window full of dust at the bottom of the glass. Do they intend to do some cleaning here or were they waiting for the library to be plentifully covered by particles of dirt to use it as a coating and start a trend?
Hesitantly, Eileen sits on the chair opposite to Riddle's and waits. The fifth year prefect is placing books on the table. Large, thick books that instantly makes the girl pale. Does he wants her to go to bed with a striking headhache or has he planned to bury her underneath all of these, disguising the intented murder as an accident?!
"What do you know about Potions?" he asked out of nowhere and Eileen takes a while to figure he just spoke.
"They are as helpful as spells," she recites blandly. "They can be offensive and defensive at the same time. They requiert the utmost precision, meaning that not everyone can brew at will. Um..."
Riddle seems waiting patiently for more. She looks anxious, as though he is going to invoke some teaching authority and give her a Troll.
"They... uh, they do not rely on magic?"
Seriously, she can't think of anything else there. The other slytherin is still staring like he wants to shot a laser beam between her two eyes. But the embarrassing silence is soon broken when Riddle finally decides to indulge her. "You're not totally hopeless Floquet, although your answers are far from satisfying."
The relief is so intense, she feels like she's lost 40lb in a breath.
"Potions are essential in a wizard existence. They can cure as well as they can curse. They can save as well as they can kill. One thing to note is, the effect of some potions isn't the same for two different people. Sometimes, one individual would require a small dose while the other could need the whole vial. You must know that a brew can be used for absolutely everything as long as it doesn't exceed reasonable forces. And the ultimate aknowledge you must be aware of is, potions leave no traces."
His eyes shine brighter.
"Add two grams of Ruta powder in a pump-up potion and it becomes one of the most poisonous brew for one hour. Then, let's say you innocently incite someone to drink it before those sixty minutes are up... and, well. No one will know who was behind this evil scheme. At least, no one stupid enough not to remove the slightest trace of the lethal ingredient. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
She has thoroughly listened despite herself, rigid and a little frightened as he went on.
"I understand, and you're starting to creep me out."
"Don't be scared. I'm not going to kill you Floquet, that would paint me as a cruel person... I said I wanted to reeducate you."
"And that's so much better," she replies in a horrified sarcasm Riddle decides to ignore.
"First, let's get to the basics. This is a book for second year curriculum." He passes one of the heavy volumes over the table. "Page eighty-three. I want you to recite the three main ingredients of the hair-regrowing potion."
A bit reluctant, Eileen execute the order like a child being scolded. She is acting like the whole situation, the one where Riddle is diligently giving her tutoring classes like the model student he is, didn't appear disturbing at all. But inside her head, she is screaming. She doesn't know how to behave if not with the same apathy she forcefully shows the others. Riddle can't be handled with apathy. It gives him too much leeway over everything. But this is actually the first time he has singled her out, offering the outcast of slytherin his utmost attention in front of everyone like it wasn't even a bother when she knew Riddle had better things to do. She doesn't like the stares the entire library is trying to give them from afar. Eileen wants to hide and become invisible until the end of school year but alas, it's a potion tutoring, not disillusionment's.
This is not the routine she was acustomed with, and it displeases her greatly. Some time while she is looking for the mandrake's main propreties, she looks over the potions book to ask the devil, "How long do I have to attend those extra-lessons already?"
Without glancing away from one of her old essays he ordered her to bring before the session, he replies, "Until I deem you capable of maintening good marks in potions and everything else without me having to supervise your uneducated brain any longer."
There is something a little off in this ambigous answer...
"I didn't catch the expiration date...?" She watches him stay focused on the paper he holds in front of him.
"Because there is none. We will go through the lessons until I say so."
It is supposed to cut short the conversation. However, Eileen does see it differently.
"No."
He finally looks at her. There. A reaction, at last.
"No?"
"No. I don't accept it. I can't spend any more time here studying like crazy when I have better things to do."
"Like what? Reading sacrilegeous muggle stories you not-so-desperately try to hide from everyone? Or stalking that bullied Ravenclaw everywhere in the castle? I tend to believe your little occupations are not to be put above your classes and grades, Floquet. For you as as well as your House."
Eileen does her best not to appear affronted, and instead lowers the annoying book she was forced to read since an hour. "I don't understand, Riddle. You don't even care. You don't like me, and I also know you would never do something like this without a goddamn reason. So tell me what's in it for you in the pretense of giving the slytherin's failure a hand?"
Not knowing what the future wizarding Hitler is scheming grows a sead of fear and pressure upon the girl who is already prepared to give everything up just to save herself. She still has Fate to mess up with until her last breath, she wouldn't even move a finger for whatever Riddle is planning right now as long as it doesn't indirectly involves her.
Bloody hell, he is staring at her like a brand new specimen now. Eileen doesn't like the attention she is getting at all. It's like he's ready to rip her mind apart, to grab whatever she has in there and crush it in those thin, delicate fingers perfectly fit for any crime.
The tutoring is long forgotten by then. They are engaging a whole new subject which Eileen doesn't take comfort in despite what she attempts to pretend.
"I think you know what I want, Floquet." It's like the little lamps are flickering under Riddle's gaze. "I want to know every bit of the secrets you're carefully hiding. I want to know what happened to you two years ago. Why are you involving yourself with that ravenclaw girl, why are you wandering around places you shouldn't be. So many questions surround you like a mystery. And I hate leaving any enigma unsolved."
Eileen doesn't say anything. The words in the book she is holding remain forgotten as she looks at them without reading. Riddle isn't actually warning her. Or not really. He is stating facts like he knew everything would naturally end according to his wishes. Not reassuring in the least, but being reduced to some petty obstacle is better than standing on the verge of being murdered in Eileen's ideology.
So, instead of showing fear and unease like she would have should in front of him, she chooses to ignore the careful threat with a simple shrug.
"We all have secrets Riddle, and I don't think you would like me knowing yours."
No smile, no frown or understanding. Not even a shred of a reaction coming from the Slytherin prefect like she kind of expected.
"Alright," he speaks, "Let's stop here for now. As much as I find this small talk intriguing, we do have other duties to reflect in. Back to potions, Floquet. I want a list of every anticoagulant ingredients existing in a form of living organisms."
And to say she has thought for a moment that he would call it a break... that evil demon.
"Your unpronounced disrespect is being too loud."
"My bad. I will be careful to curse you in a lesser intensity from now on."
"Save your attempt to antagonize me in hope that I change my mind about these lessons. It's not going to work."
Well. Shit.
Even though the tutoring was weird and totally unexpected, it has went quite well. The first interaction they ever had has been the total opposite of what fate would normally lead them both to. Instead of blood and hexes, there has been politness and learning. No mind games from Riddle, as surprising as it may be. The cunning that came out of that dark soul had only attacked her weakness in studies. No more than that. Still, it doesn't mean Eileen has to lie upon this semblance of peace the boy is offering. It's not like he is being kind to her- he has no reason to. The obvious facade is there to achieve something a deeper goal which involved her participation.
To what end?
She doesn't want to know.
"Miss Floquet. I would like you to at least pretend to be interested in my class please."
Some snickers is heard amongst the Hufflepuff side. Turning away from the giant tapestry on the wall next to her desk, she meets a pair of shining blue eyes staring right at her soul. Ah, right. Transfiguration time.
Dumbledore doesn't even look angry. He has long abandonned the idea of wasting his authority over the girl since the day he realized that inattentive side of hers was completely innate and incurable.
"I apologize, Professor Dumbledore. It won't happen again."
He sighs, briefly shaking his head with a look of disappointment . "I would have certainly believed you, had you not already promised your attention fifty-two times before."
More laughter arise. It is incredible of him to have kept count since the very beginning. Eileen isn't ashamed, on the contrary.
"This time it's true."
"Heard it before as well."
Is that a crack of a smile on the corner of his lips she is seeing? Damn bloody Merlin, he is smiling at a Slytherin! The sky will fall over their heads or The Deputy Headmaster is going crazy. Getting on Dumbledore's bad side is very easy as a slytherin. Getting on his good side however, is as easy as defeating Grindelwald alone with a stick. So, yeah. Utterly unlikely.
The rest of the class is horribly long. After two yawns and a brink of nap, everybody is finally dismissed by the professor who doesn't forget to give his students hundred of inches homework for the next two weeks. Seems like her reading time is being compromised.
"Miss Floquet, a word please."
Between Sadell's suspicious glare and some Hufflepuff's look of pity, Eileen tenses literally two steps from the door.
"You're dead if you lose any more house points Floquet," Malfoy whispers venomously, their shoulders colliding as he passes her to the exit.
Once everyone is out, she is ready to face her destiny alone with the defender of Light. With a sigh, she turns around. "What's wrong professor? Am I in trouble for daydreaming in class?"
"Far from that, my girl. Although these recurrences of you sleeping in my class will have to face consequences someday."
Oh.
"I still need to evaluate your performance regarding the class you missed while you were in the hospital wing. Do you remember?"
...Oh.
"Honestly professor, I think I need more time in order to—"
"Nonsense, Miss Floquet. You had the whole week to prepare. One minute is all it's going to take. Now, whenever you're ready."
Cursing Dumbledore and the entire world along, Eileen forces the frustration down as she goes to stand in front of her desk upon which a silver fork is suddenly conjured by the deputy headmaster's care. Smiling sympathetically at her, the man takes away his wand and says, "Your fellow classmates had to transfigure the fork into an ashtray. But you're exceptionally free to choose anything you deem acceptable for a good grade."
Is he really testing her or does he think she is doomed to fail...? A little bit annoyed by the subtle way he is showing pity for her, Eileen fires the gear of her brain up, trying to come up with something that would definitely make the Deputy Headmaster think otherwise. She could set the damn needle ablaze if she willed it to, but attracting Dumbledore's attention on her once again while the hospital beds are curently collecting more and more petrified victims would be a super-ultra bad idea.
Dumbledore doesn't seem to hold her responsible for the mysterious events anymore, but that doesn't mean he trusted her at all. Eileen was just a mindless little viper lost within her own house, pitiful and unable to harm anybody. But since he'd found her with Sanderson last time, it was like the man had a complete turn-over. The fact that she is a snake doesn't help, too.
Picturing the image she wants to use for this little trick, she almost smiles as she takes her wand out, pointing it towards the tiny object.
The wand movement is perfect, she knows. The easiest part is that the altering spell has no need for incantation except if the final result is intended to be more complex, like additional features. The fork shakes virulently for five seconds while Eileen puts every bit of intent and focus into the item. Then it jolts up in the air, the silver line becoming larger and changing from a light to a dark green shade with thick black speckles. The hissing sounds it lets out fills Eileen with pride as she watches the transfigured fifteen inches snake wiggle angrily on the desk.
Sweeping away the sweat dropping down her forehead, she looks up at Dumbledore, hoping to see shock, bewilderment or even some frustration as one of his less favourite students managed to pass the test with more than a mere ashtray. To her utmost disappointment, the professor is showing neither of those expressions right now. His eyes are fixed on the hissing snake trying to make itself bigger than it was, before moving the silent stare at Eileen.
"Did I pass, professor?"
When she doesn't get any answer, she suddenly fears he is going to brush the result away and dismiss her with a loss of points for her previous misbehaviour in class. It's his favourite signature after all.
"I must confess," he murmurs, "that I wasn't expecting... this." He stroke his ginger beard, the one that would soon becomes longer and greyish decades ahead. It's like he doesn't know what to do with the outcome. And that is the moment Eileen starts to feel like she screwed up.
"Consider me... impressed, Miss Floquet."
It seems hard for him to blurt out the compliment to a vicious slytherin. Dumbledore looks like he just bit into a lemon right now.
"Twenty points to Slytherin for that extraordinary display of magic."
"Thank you professor. Can I go now? Mr. Binns would have my head if I barge in the classroom right in the middle of his speech about the Goblins war..."
"Yes, yes. I have held you back longer than I originally planned. You may go."
Without hesitating twice, Eileen takes her bag and runs to the door before he can find an excuse to deduce the points he so reluctently gave her.
"Miss Floquet?"
Hesitantly, she paused a step away from the door.
"If you happen to know something about this unfortunate curse running through the wall of Hogwarts and hurting our precious students, feel free to come to me whenever you need."
"Of course," is all she says.
Eileen quickly departs from the classroom, unaware of the gaze following the back of her head until she is out of range.
"Look, Eileen. I did it!"
With all the time in the world, Eileen looks up from the thick novel, finally aknowledging the girl's insistent presence with a blank face for the first time in two hours. Myrtle points the tip of her wand towards the black spot on the dummy's chest. The center lays untouched but she still managed to hit the area above the heart. Not bad. Eileen dives back in the book she's enjoying since they set foot into the former Defence classroom while pretending to follow the ravenclaw's progress.
"Good. It was time you succeed after your hundredth try, don't you think."
She turns a page without batting an eye and starts devoring the new lines hungrily. Finally, some peace time far away from people in this dream of a castle. It had taken a long war of arguments and persuasion to let her be for the rest of the day. Feigning her periods has proven to be quite efficient in the end, because as soon as that excuse was blurted out Sadell had rolled her eyes but still loosened the leash to let her dog wander freely in the castle. Although she surely expected Eileen to stay in bed all day. Something she can easily justify by creating a scenario where she went to ask a pain-reliever potion in the hospital wing.
"I know you like not to care about everything, but could you at least pretend to be happy for me?" Myrtle grumbles. She watches the black spot slowly fade away from the leathery bust.
"Don't have time, don't want to."
"Then why are you helping me?" The girl adjusts her glasses back on the top of her nose.
Eileen inhales a breath. "In case you don't remember, you pestered me, stalked me, hang onto me for a whole week in order to force me to train you."
The ravenclaw girl has the decency to look sheepish. Eileen flips another page. "Now shut up for a while, the plot is getting pretty intense."
"What are you reading? Demonic spells?"
Myrtle abandons the practice to come sit on the window sill next to her, taking a break of her own accord. Eileen can't help the deadpan she gives the fourth year crybaby. "Who do you take me for? Tom Riddle?"
"You're funny. Tom isn't evil. He's the angel Hogwarts needs at all cost!"
Do not react. Do not react. Do not react.
Myrtle sighs that annoying loving sigh every prepubescent girl do when they talk about their crush.
"I will always remember the day he helped me get back on my feet after Joshua Fergusson shoved me on the ground... Those delicate hands of his, those eyes, those lips... I thought he was going to kiss me."
"Yeah, right. Kiss you to death I bet."
"Exactly! You don't know how many time I've dreamed about this moment, imagining more than hands-touching—"
"Stop it before I use your wand to make myself vomit."
"You don't understand!"
"Believe me, I do. More than I want to."
"You're being sarcastic again."
"Astute of you Sherlock."
"Will you stop it!?"
"I will stop once you understand how disgusting you sound."
"You... You...!"
Tears start to show up. Eyes wet, Myrtle suddenly stands up and open her mouth, ready to wake up corpses with her wail.
"Do that Warren, and I call the deal off."
The deal. The only thing for which Eileen accepted all this mascerade to begin with. Without looking up, she feels the girl trying to control her facial expression, biting her lip and swallowing back the roaring sob she was just about to let out.
Rule number one : no crying.
"You're so mean."
What a heavenly satisfaction not to have to bear those damn break down everyday. The most useful rule she made as a compromise. But the delight is short lived however, as Myrtle quickly erases all traces of fragility and comes back beside the slytherin to engage the conversation further. Sometimes, the fast switching moods of the whining ravenclaw amazes Eileen to no ends. It is like watching a Metamorphmagus shift appearance every single minute.
"You know, I think you are acting like a sour ninety years old woman because you have never fallen in love once in your life."
Okay, no need for the wand anymore. Vomit is going to find the way up to her throat by itself.
"I heard the rumours. About you being ill, I mean. You were too weak to have any friends. You couldn't even have a decent school life at all! It wouldn't be surprising to have grown so bitter about everything and all-"
"You're walking straight on a minefield," Eileen warns calmly.
"I-I mean! I don't blame you for who you are. I just think that... maybe? Maybe you need someone to help you brighten up a bit. Like, a friend or... or something."
"Or something," Eileen deadpans. "I strongly hope that you're not referring to me getting a boyfriend."
The silence is heavy. And filled with embarrassment. Merlin, she suddenly feels the painful need for a long nap. Massaging the bridge of her nose, the slytherin girl slams shut the thick book on her laps. "Listen, Warren. I don't care what you think of me but do not assume I am a delusional idiot like yourself. I am as interested in love as I am in Dippet's choice of underpants right now, so don't even think to interfer with my non-existent sentimental life because you will be the one heartbroken in the end."
Then she stands up, wand out, and aims at the dummy in the far end of the room.
"Confringo."
The light flashing from the tip makes a straight line to the unmoving target. It hits with such a force that the thing is blasted from the ground and crushes against the wall behind. Even from the distance, both of them can see the fuming hole through the burning rubber torso.
"There. You would be able to achieve this much were you not insistent of gossiping about Riddle and daydreaming about a Prince that will never come. So, practice instead of dozing off."
She leaves the classroom without looking back once. Maybe she should have, but the predictable expression Myrtle would show would only have ignite more fire in her. So, stomping off the practice grounds is more than reasonnable.
Eileen doesn't know why she is so tense these past days. The relationship she has with Eldwins is good. Elizabeth isn't aknowleging her presence for now and Atheis is still biting her tongue out of jealousy because of Riddle's private tutoring. The others are not bothering her anymore except for a few remarks about her lazy appearance or some stupid stuff only prick-pureblood would react to. Perhaps the lesson with Riddle affected her more than she has thought. Perhaps she is aware of the short time left before the end of the semester, meaning these cases of petrified muggleborns will come to an end– Meaning that the basilisk will be put to sleep again... meaning that someone will die for the return of peace at Hogwarts.
She clenches her teeth.
Where is the intense apathy she was so proud of all those weeks ago? Where is the Eileen Floquet who doesn't care about anyone- anything, like Warren has painted her so well? She is no hero. Hell, it isn't her timeline, even less her universe. All she wanted to do was live peacefully until one hundred fifty years old, enjoying her magic and her new body like no other. To hell with the Dark Lord and the greater good crap!
... It is bad.
Growing emotional and all isn't part of those plans. Is this a plot twist settled by Fate? Is that fucking shithead interfering with her life again? He better not. He fucking better not, because in this case Eileen will be running to Dumbledore's office, snap his neck, offer it to Grindelwald and create an entire Powerpoint to brief Tom Riddle about everything on the future plot.
Fate thinks she wouldn't be able to fuck up the timeline? Ha.
"Try me," she growls under her breath.
Rule number two: never test her patience.