Chapter 4. Invisible control

Blowing on a naughty curl, Irene leaned back in her chair. With a subtle gesture of her fingers, the quill obediently dipped into the inkwell, and then went to the parchment and carefully scribbled out the sentence. The essay on the history of Metamorphmagi was so boring that it made Irene sleepy. The only thing that gave away genuine thought was a furrowed brow. It had been a week, and the library scene was still on her mind: whether the candles and torches shone so brightly, playing with light and shadow, creating the illusion of flaming scarlet eyes, or whether it was true.

Irene rested a head on her palms, gazing intently at the diligent writing quill. What should she do next? Just disappear? That was not an option. And this arrogant guy didn't seem that dangerous either, though he was definitely a strong wizard. Irene had no particular fear of him, but rather something else, but it was still quite unclear. Maybe she should come up with a proposal of mutual ignoring of each other's existence? That was probably much better. To try and join their company? They were obviously in an advantageous position, and that would be a good idea, one "but": Tom would be too close, and in case it didn't seem to her at all... it would be better to stay away from him.

"Irene!? A ringing voice made Irene raise her head. "I've been looking all over for you!"

Katherine put the parchment on the table, taking a seat opposite.

"Hello, Katherine," she nodded her head friendly and looked at the piece of paper over which the quill was hovering, waiting for the next command. The essay was finished.

"I think there are few registered metamorphmagi, because they either hide themselves well keeping their essence shady, or all of them work for the magical government as spies of some kind!"

"I suppose you're right. While I was writing my essay, I found only one example."

"Charles-Geneviève de Beaumont," Katherine laughed merrily, opening her transfiguration textbook.

"The same example that will be in absolutely every essay," Irene defiantly rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Tom found another one," Katherine voiced mundanely, dipping her quill in the ink.

The corners of Irene's lips twitched. 'That Riddle has a finger in every pie. He knows everything,' the darkest thoughts immediately occupied her mind.

"Look, Katherine..." Irene carefully rolled up the parchment to stow it in her bag. "Does Tom have a girlfriend?"

Katherine's palm froze, and the gaze of her bright blue eyes slowly rose from the parchment to the figure opposite, and her refined features began to slowly stretch into a smile. Katherine took a deep breath, preparing to say something that Irene was a priori ready to accept with protest, for she had already realized: This was a question that should have been asked differently.

"Miss Grace," a high, pleasant voice sounded nearby. Both girls stared away from the window, where a handsome young man of cold appearance stood. "Miss Düster," Malfoy smiled.

He leisurely walked closer and placed his scroll, textbook and ink on the table. After looking at the girls again, he pulled back his chair and sat down. It had to be admitted, even the way he sat was impeccably handsome.

"No, Mr. Riddle has no lady of his heart," Malfoy said politely. "But your chances, Irene, are not very high either."

"Abraxas!" Katherine poked him in the side, pouting her lips unhappily. "Don't listen to him!" She shook her head in the direction of Abraxas.

"Irene asked — I answered," Malfoy smiled, and then looked at the newcomer with a closely appraising look. "I admit, you impressed everyone at the Transfiguration class. Though you lost points..." A grin appeared on his stern face.

"Oh, thank you!" Irene answered in a friendly manner. Then, in the blink of an eye, a pretentious smile appeared on her face. "Maybe it wouldn't have happened at all... Deign my fellow students to inform me what can and can't be done?"

Abraxas was still smiling, but his gray eyes were cold and his gaze was haughty.

"Guys, that's enough," Katherine sighed, throwing her quill on the table.

"No, darling," Malfoy's smile was so unnatural that Irene's cheekbones cramped with irritation, and the same appraising look fell on her afterward. "You're right, Irene. We should have started with communication, not shepherd's pie. What did you call me? An arrogant poser?"

"You imagined it," Irene shrugged, tossing back a stray lock of hair.

"Guys, come on," Katherine sounded more insistent and sterner, "this isn't Gryffindor kindergarten after all!"

"Come on, we should have been clearer a long time ago," Abraxas's tone pressed harder and harder. "Irene, in order to communicate with us, you have to be... How shall I put this delicately?"

"Pure-blooded," she said sharply.

Malfoy watched silently, waiting for an answer, not thinking it necessary to utter any more empty, unimportant words, especially since she understood everything herself. After all, what if she turned out to be a half-blood, or worse, a filthy mudblood? Katherine was silent, but her clear gaze was also fixed on Irene. The decisive answer that would determine whether they would communicate further. She would have asked sooner herself... But manners and upbringing did not allow her to ask the question head-on; it had to be the right situation. Katherine had never been wrong about who was sitting next to her: a mudblood or a dignified wizard, and for some reason she was one hundred percent certain about Irene.

There was a sharp creaking sound of a chair being pushed back, as if it had scraped across the floor in a way that was sure to leave a mark. Irene was already standing on her own two feet, and the black walnut wand was in the white fingers of her right hand. She slowly held out her left hand, palm up.

"Diffindo," she spat out coldly.

It was as if an invisible knife had slashed into the little palm, where, in the next instant, a scar formed, quickly filling with blood. Irene defiantly raised her hand up and turned her palm toward the tabletop. Bright scarlet blood dripped onto the wooden surface.

"Cleaner than a drop of blood from any student within the walls of this castle," she said in a voice filled with such grandeur, as if she were wearing a crown on her head that no one else could see.

Katherine swallowed hard. Abraxas showed no emotion, watching indifferently. Only Merlin knew that he was actually taken aback by the not entirely normal antics of a fellow student, but his manners and upbringing forced him to pull himself together and not react at all. Unable to look at the dripping blood any longer, Katherine jumped up from her chair and pulled out a dark brown wand.

"Vulnera sanentur!" she issued with an excitement that could not be said for the actions. Every movement was confident and precise, and the wound healed in the eyes and the blood disappeared from the table.

"Did I pass the test?" Irene laughed suddenly, as if they were luring the sniffer with gold coins into the bag for fun. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she added, "What a terrific dress code you have for entering an elite club - pure blood!"

"You see, Irene, the wizarding world can be in great danger if such important things are ignored," Malfoy said seriously.

"Abraxas," Irene took a deep breath, "blood determines status and, importantly, power. I know that. If I were a regular Mudblood, I'd be trying so hard to learn and gain new knowledge, so desperate to take my place under the sun."

"You're always studying and sitting in the library, or, well, reading late in the living room by the fireplace... So, I might have thought so," Malfoy smiled.

"Then I might think that your head boy is a mudblood, too," Irene laughed out loud.

"Tom?! What on earth are you talking about!" Katherine gasped. "It's Tom! The best of the best! And his blood–"

"Perhaps we should drop the subject," Abraxas said sternly, and smiled slightly.

"The love of knowledge and the skill to use it does not equal stupid cramming," Irene suddenly became serious too. "It gives you power over those who are lazy. I think that's exactly what you're good at."

Malfoy nodded silently, agreeing with the argument. Katherine smiled, feeling the tension receding.

"Perhaps we should get to know each other better. Sometimes we go to Hogsmeade on Saturdays. I'll talk to Tom and maybe you'll be invited," Abraxas voiced indifferently as he unfolded the parchment.

"What an honor!" Irene's theatrical bow made Grace all the more amused. "Katherine, I've been meaning to ask you for a long time, may I go to the Prefects' Bathroom?" Suddenly there was a pitying twinkle in her emerald eyes. "It's so nice in there!"

"It's fine." Katherine shrugged. "Just don't tell anyone I said it was okay, or they'll take our points."

"Mm-hmm." Irene muttered, and then vanished into the light of the bookshelves.

"Katherine, Katherine..." Malfoy grudgingly muttered, jotting down notes on parchment.

"Well, what's the big deal? Come on!" She naively shrugged and turned the page of the textbook and continued writing her essay. "Besides... It's my turn on the schedule, so the water's probably on its way."

"But you switched... Katherine!"

Bright blue eyes were fixed on a friend and for a moment you could see a naive spark in them, filled with superficial stupidity. Katherine smiled guiltily and gave a barely perceptible shrug.

Hurrying up to the fifth floor, Irene anticipated the sweet relaxation of diving headlong into the water. Such ambiguous elements always thrilled her. Of course, no bathroom could compare to the endless depths of the ocean, but better that than nothing at all. As she turned into the hallway of the right floor, she saw a pair of girls in the distance: Mia Harrison talking to someone, probably her friend. The echo of stomping heels caused both students to turn around, and as soon as Mia saw Irene, she immediately started saying something loud and waving her arms.

"Have a wonderful evening, too, dear Mia," Irene blurted out and shoved the door sharply open to the saving Prefects' bathroom, not wanting to hear a word from the Gryffindor girl.

As soon as she closed the door behind her and turned around, glancing the already familiar space, she realized that there was a pleasant scent of herbs in the room. Water and foam slowly filled the bathtub, which looked more like a pool.

"Hmm, rose, jasmine, and something else..." Irene thought, trying to smell it. "You have good taste, Katherine." The robe slowly flew to the floor, followed by the rest of the uniform.

"Finally," Irene wheezed, unraveling her tight braid. Long, curly, raven-black hair flowed down her snow-white body. She walked leisurely to the water and carefully stepped into the water, which was pleasantly warm. Not wanting to wait another minute, she plunged completely into the water and leaned back, wetting her thick hair. Curving forward, she exhaled sweetly, "This feels so good..."

Relaxation persistently conquered every cell of her body, and the heat dispersed her blood. Irene pulled back, leaning her back against the tiled surface and, looking at her swollen breasts, mentally stated the fact of ovulation: her nipples hardened, brazenly hinting at physiology. Pale fingers slowly slid down her neck, her breasts, and her stomach. Droplets of moisture dripped down her face. Irene took a deep breath, enjoying the silence and complete peace.

A slight wave passed over the water surface. Irene stared intently at the calm fluctuations. A slight smile spread across her face.

"Merlin, a disillusionment charm of such power that you become invisible without any mantle can only tell you're so damn good. Whoever you are," the smile never left Irene's ruddy face.

A moment.

Opposite, at the other end of the huge bathroom, appeared a black-haired young man who was sitting, just like Irene, leaning back against the tiled wall.

"Minus five points from Slytherin for breach of discipline and order, Riddle's cold voice was akin to an icy shower.

"Come on, Tom," Irene grinned nervously. What the hell? Why exactly he was here? The memories from the library immediately brought a sense of unease, and it became uncomfortable. "You don't write off points from your house," the attempt to reason sensibly and keep her cool was quite successful.

"How did you even get in here? You're not a Head Girl. And you don't play Quidditch either," Tom said.

There's a naked girl sitting in the same bathroom with him, and he cares about discipline? What a freak! But Irene decided to stay out of the way and have a calm dialogue.

"Dumbledore let me come here on the first day. Apparently, his permission still applies. And... the prefect's permission..."

Tom was silently observing Irene. The quiet splashes of water from the movement of bodies pleasantly caressed ears.

"I'd leave, but it wouldn't be fair," Irene smiled falsely, wondering if he was going to drown her here, or if he really didn't care that much. "You were sitting there looking at me," she muttered at random, unsure of how to behave in this situation.

Tom didn't answer, his gaze lazily shifting from Irene to the stack of towels on the floor behind her. Well, their thoughts were converging, and that already indicated a possible understanding. Abraxas's words about the lack of a partner rang in Irene's head on their own. Of course, that didn't mean that Tom didn't have someone to spend time with - Mia alone was worth it. It seemed to make sense now why she was loitering in the hallway, and even Riddle himself had talked about meeting her in the Room of Requirement.

'A Gryffindor girl?' Irene thought. It seemed that she could physically taste the disgust on the tip of her tongue.

"I think it's your turn to get up and walk around," she said with a smile, deciding to play all-in, but Tom didn't respond in any way.

Irene stood up a little, and he immediately greedily fixed his gaze on her breasts, which rose impudently and shamelessly above the water. One moment, but it was enough to understand everything. The fox's gaze flashed a daring emerald sparkle, and a sly smile flashed across her face.

"As you wish," Irene sighed languidly.

Keeping her eyes on Riddle, she slowly rose from the water. Droplets began to drip from her long black locks of hair down the rounded curves of her feminine body, which made the sharp cheekbones of Tom's handsome face tense. His breathing was ragged, though he tried desperately to hide it. Irene walked over to the towels and, turning around, gave him a playful glance, then leaned in for the white terry cloth.

"Come on, Tom," she said sweetly, lingeringly, "we must have bathed together in the orphanage and wiped ourselves with a shared towel. We're very close."

The splash of water. The slapping of bare feet on the damp floor. Irene swallowed hard, assuming he was about to confront her openly and they would be dishonorably expelled from Witchcraft and Wizardry school, completely naked. Down the drain. Gnawing greedily at the air, she looked at the tall young man, who was pacing straight toward her. The urge to touch the flawless, masculine body arose instantly. She pressed her lips together and involuntarily lowered her gaze downward. A wave of arousal ran through her body, giving a heavy weight down her belly. Tom's massive cock was hard.

"So it was, Irene," Riddle said indifferently, looking up at Irene, who was looking below the waist with her mouth ajar. His ruddy face was still as sculpted, unreadable. He slowly reached for the towel, leaning over her body, and at that very moment she heard his heavy breathing. Such heavy proximity of a strong hand made Irene involuntarily squeeze her hips. "But who cares," Tom exhaled somewhere in the top of the night color head. The desire to grip her long hair tightly, wrapping it around the fist, sent a new pulse of arousal through his body. The rush of blood made his cock swell and twitch faintly. "You don't remember anything anyway."

Goosebumps run around the skin. Irene swallowed hard and looked away. Clutching onto a life-saving towel, she wrapped herself in it and, with a wave of her palm, levitated her clothing closer to the door, where her legs seemed to scurry to, of their own accord.

Well, that was it. The mind went fuzzy. Maybe it was too hot in here? Or had she bumped her head, but couldn't remember where or under what circumstances? She could accept anything but the fact of such intense physical attraction, which came over her head like a thunderbolt out of the blue. Irene stared desperately into the tufts of fabric of her uniform, just to avoid thinking about what she had just seen.

Tom took his time putting on his clothing, with his back turned to Irene. His iron composure was to be envied. Only his cheekbones betrayed his tension, and his long fingers, which gripped the robe far too tightly.

Irene had frantically put on her clothes and was just about to step out the door when she heard loud footsteps and a commanding voice behind her, "Wait. We're not finished yet."

Freezing with the tension in every cell of her body, Irene exhaled slowly. Her heartbeat slowed. Her fingers fumbled for the black wand, squeezing it tightly, ready to pull it out of her robe pocket at a moment's notice. A fever ran through her body. A heavy and strong energy behind began to squeeze like a vise.

"You'll earn points for Slytherin within a week, and then neither you nor Katherine will be punished for disturbing the order. That's first of all. And second of all," Tom's voice sounded more like a hiss. He stopped behind her, too close. Irene froze, not daring to turn around and make eye contact. "What about your parents, dear Irene?"

"They..." her voice left like a real deserter, and Irene only exhaled hoarsely.

"Did they die, or did they take you? Your words are surprisingly different," Tom grinned, not giving her the chance to speak. He took a deep breath of the scent of the Irene's hair. She was still with her back to him. She was not tall. His cock tensed, making it too tight and a little painful in his pants. "Lying bitch," hissed Riddle.

"What do you care, Tom?" Irene asked sincerely, clutching her black walnut wand harder.

"Perhaps you'll find out later," his voice sounded impassive. If only Irene had turned around, she would have seen his eyes flaring scarlet again, but she didn't dare, frozen like a rabbit in a boa constrictor's grip.

With a wave of Tom's hand, the bathroom door swung open. Irene hurried forward, realizing that he was letting her go. But he followed her. The feeling of pressure and his dark energy was oppressing, and she couldn't help but want to vanish into thin air.

"Tom!" A girl's voice broke the silence. Mia watched the gloomy couple leave the bathroom. "I tried to stop her! But she ran in there like a madwoman! What was she doing in the bathroom anyway?" Mia nodded toward the pale Irene, who looked as if she'd just thrown up. Riddle opened his mouth, but the head in front, which was somewhere at the level of his chest, turned sharply toward the tall girl.

"I was scrubbing the tub for your beloved Tom because I had to work off my punishment for the burnt birds, Mia," Irene said monotonously. "And if you had taken the punishment instead of me, I would have been glad. There's nothing worse than pulling someone's hair and snot off a tile. That would be all."

Irene hurried to the stairs to get down to the dungeon, taking advantage of this opportune moment. Lights out wouldn't be long, which meant she could just go to bed and shut herself off from the world with the dark green curtain of her bed and think.

Finding herself in such a welcome place, she sprawled out on the cool sheets. Why were there no memories of Tom? A single question, but as annoying as a prickle that stuck somewhere inside her sweater and scratched her skin uncomfortably. Everything is too strange and illogical... She had to find out, but not now. She needed to wait for the right moment, she needed to be careful.

Tom obviously suspected her of something, calling her a liar head-on. Discipline and behavior must be perfect. This guy's not so simple after all...

The bottom of her stomach ached. Irene rolled over onto her side, clutching her knees. Before her eyes flashed images of a handsome male body and a strong energy that sent shivers down her skin, filling every cell of her body with such lingering lust. What if those strong hands had taken her body right there? Would she have said no? A heavy sigh.

☽

The corridors were crowded with students hurrying to class. Irene was notified of the invitation to the headmaster's office early in the morning. Entering the already familiar surroundings, Irene saw four people: Professor Dippet was sitting at the table, Dumbledore was standing a little to the side, and two men were sitting opposite, one of whom was already familiar — this was Torquil Travers, who arrived at the school quite recently.

"Miss Duester!" Dumbledore smiled. "Please sit down." He kindly pointed to an empty chair next to the men.

Irene stared wide-eyed and sat on the very edge of her chair.

"Has something become known?" she asked breathlessly and looked hopefully at those present.

"Let me introduce myself," said a good-looking man, "the Head Auror in the British Ministry of Magic, Theseus Scamander."

Irene nodded silently.

"I suppose you know what you were called on about," Torquil Travers said. "The area with the broken protection was, of course, liquidated. Everything has been checked for a long time, it's safe at Hogwarts. However, you, Miss Duester, surprisingly appeared on the school grounds at almost the same time."

Irene nodded obediently, still listening attentively, without interrupting.

"Given the current situation, we are obliged to interrogate you," Theseus Scamander said. "How did you come to be on Hogwarts territory?"

"Yes, sir!" Irene was obviously ready to cooperate. She gently tucked a curl behind her ear and said, "In mid-September there was an attack on the Institute of Magic in Dortmund..." She swallowed hard. The beginning of the sentence was easy, but towards the end her voice became quieter. "Our professors stood up for us, telling to just keep our heads down. It was... it was so scary..."

Green eyes filled with pain, and Irene clutched at the hem of her robe and gripped her fingers tightly. There was a silence in the room. Everyone kept staring at her, waiting for her to continue.

"They tortured them, I heard the screams... I... I hid in a room on the top floor... And then... Then those footsteps..." Еears started trickling down her cheeks. "Someone shouted out 'Expulso' and the door just blew out... I was thrown back by the shockwave, bruised badly against the wall... I remember when the dust and smoke from the explosion began to slowly settle, a tall man came into the room... And those eyes," Irene sobbed softly, "were different colors."

The Ministry representatives looked at each other. Dumbledore sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What happened next?" Travers asked quietly.

"Some kind of spell... I don't know, we weren't taught that." Irene began frantically wiping away her tears with her small fists. "I do not know how the Apparition came to my mind, but that's exactly what I tried to do. And that spell... I got hit in the side."

"Well, the bottle of healing potion from the apothecary really was found by house elves," Dippet said, adjusting his glasses.

The ministerial representatives exchanged a look.

"In that case, I'll go to the Ministry, and Mr. Travers will stay here for a second thorough check."

"Yes, of course," the headmaster nodded approvingly. "Irene, you are free to go."

"You can have my memory," she suggested quietly but confidently. "What if I'm missing something?"

The representatives of the Ministry of Magic looked at the headmaster, waiting for a gesture of permission, which was not long in coming. Scamander's wand gently touched the black curly head, and then pulled out a silvery ephemeral cloud of memory. Irene sighed, but the sigh turned out to be heavy and nervous, as usually happens after hysterics and tears. Her memory was put into a small bottle, and she was let go to class.

After leaving the headmaster's office, she headed to the third floor, where the Defence Against the Dark Arts class was located. She was already a little late, but Dumbledore must have been warned. He was attentive to such things, so there shouldn't be any problems. Besides, she needed to earn points for Slytherin. It's no good framing Katherine, so mentally Irene had already signed up for a deal with a pesky devil named Tom Riddle.

"Hey, pretty girl," a cheerful voice made Irene turn around. She was being overtaken by a handsome young man with a snake patch on his robe. Only for some reason Irene saw him for the first time.

"Hello," she smiled, waiting for the young man.

"I'm Adrian and I've never seen you before, where are you from?" He was a little out of breath, he must have been late for class too.

"Irene Düster," she smiled and shook his hand. "Transferred to Hogwarts recently."

"If you're a pureblood, I'll marry you," he laughed. "But if you're a mudblood, then, alas, I shall have to kill you."

A ringing laughter echoed, though everyone around them, if they had heard the conversation, would have said the joke wasn't funny at all. And something deep inside Irene suggested that the guy wasn't joking at all, but at least it was worth making friends with someone other than Katherine.

"Pureblood," Irene said matter-of-factly, and then arched an eyebrow questioningly as she waited for Adrian to answer the same way.

"Our family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, whose magical origins no one doubts. I'm Adrian Rosier."

When the couple approached DADA's classroom, Rosier took responsibility for entering it and apologizing to the teacher. Galatea Merrythought waved her hand amiably, pointing to an empty desk, where fellow students of the snake house sat down without delay. The lesson was calm and even fun, because the new acquaintance was constantly joking and flirting, which definitely lifted the mood.

"And where had you been before?" Irene asked quietly, turning the page to the 'Cruciatus Curse' chapter.

"I visited my aunt in France."

"But isn't it dangerous there now?" Düster asked calmly, but her whole body tensed as she waited for an answer.

"What do you mean?" Adrian looked intently into emerald eyes and couldn't hold back a smile. "Merlin, you're so beautiful and you look like my aunt, by the way. She has black hair too, only short, and her eyes are just as green. I'll get married!"

They both laughed and were reprimanded by Professor Merrythought for disturbing the order of the class. Rosier immediately apologized with his customary politeness and charm.

Irene barely had time to smile, yielding to the charisma of her new acquaintance, before a sharp object screwed into her forehead. A wave of suffocation swept over her body, causing her to inhale spasmodically and hoarsely.

"Are you all right?" Adrian asked.

"Yes," Irene said, her eyes darting to the right behind Adrian.

That was where Riddle was sitting. He seemed calm, peacefully taking notes about the Cruciatus. But really, he wasn't, because just a moment ago he'd given Irene a look that would have burned her alive.

"It's so silly to write an essay on the Cruciatus instead of learning how to use it," Rosier muttered as he dipped his quill into the ink. "Do you think so?"

"I think so, too," Irene agreed, and began her essay.

The rest of the class passed quickly and easily. Tom never looked at his classmates again, apparently thinking it foolish and unworthy of him to waste his precious attention on them. As soon as Professor Merrythought let the students go to Potions, there was a lot of noise and uproar in the classroom.

"My Lady," Adrian smiled, holding out his hand. Irene looked straight into his eyes and gracefully placed her hand in his. Adrian lightly kissed the blue veins on the pale hand. "Excuse me, I have to say hello to my friends. You probably already know each other," he nodded in the direction of the retinue, which was always circling somewhere near Riddle, and headed there. "I hope you'll keep me company at Potions."

Irene nodded and went to another classroom, deciding to visit the girls' toilet along the way. In class she could not be distracted, she had to earn the points. The endless corridors of the castle were fascinating, and the desire to skip a couple of classes arose by itself. Irene shook her head, pushing the thoughts away like pesky flies. The status and image of one of the best students had to be achieved in the shortest possible time and be unshakable, which meant that she couldn't do anything stupid either.

Professor Slughorn's silhouette flashed in the hallway. 'Oh, Merlin!' Irene thought and quickened her pace, trying to catch up with the professor. A little more and the door to the classroom would have slammed shut right in front of her, but she jumped in after professor. Her gaze immediately scanned the classroom, looking for Adrian. He was sitting with Oliver Nott. Well, apparently, they were friends, and Rosier decided to sit with him. Looking around the room once more, but with a different purpose, Irene realized: one empty desk at the very end and one empty seat next to Riddle. A sense of protest swept over her head. It seemed that by absolutely all means, this obnoxious head boy was trying to poison the peaceful existence within the walls of the school. Something had to be done about it. It was starting to get on her nerves. It was possible, of course, to do it her own way, but the fact remained that this guy was strong, and to confront him openly was a dangerous venture, because then there could be really serious problems, not kindergarten with passive aggression and the creation of uncomfortable situations.

Steady steps to the first row on the right.

"May I?" Irene had a good-natured smile on her face.

"No," Tom replied indifferently, placing the old, battered textbook on the desk.

"Yes," she protested with a stony face. "I'll pretend I didn't realize you ordered Rosier to stay away from me. I won't tell the Head of our house that you dragged me into the head prefects' bathroom, stripped me naked, and forced me to do terrible things. You won't be expelled. Just let me sit here."

Tom was silent. Habits, blackmail, manipulations to achieve her personal benefits — absolutely everything about her was exactly the same as six years ago, when she was just a little girl. Even words! Was she mocking? Or did she really not remember, and her style of behavior simply remained unchanged?

Tom carefully flipped through the pages of the textbook, ignoring the existence of Irene. He was not eager to create unnecessary noise, which would inevitably attract the attention of absolutely everyone.

Waiting for an answer, Irene turned around and looked at the rows to her left. Of all the Gryffindor students, the one who stood out was Mia, who was sitting alone, crammed with her books. Her eyes were not fixed on the prefect's desk, but she was pretending indifference.

"So be it," Tom said suddenly.

Irene mentally shouted a victorious hooray, carefully unbuttoned her robe, and sat down next to him. Riddle turned his head toward her for the first time. His gaze immediately slid over her legs, his throat trembling with a hard gulp. A moment, but Irene considered it. What was it then? The bath had done its work, and the young man realized that he was a man?

If Irene's emotions had been more intense, she would definitely have had a smug grin of triumph, but indifference in tandem with the ability to notice little things was unshakable. So, she didn't show it and just started the lesson.

Potion was as usual interesting. Professor Slughorn was talking enthusiastically about the Draught of Living Death. The students diligently wrote down every word.

"Divide into pairs for making a potion!"

Students noisily began to get up and find a partner. Irene pulled Katherine, who was standing in front of her, by the sleeve.

"Katherine, I'll be with you!"

"Irene," she smiled guiltily, and there were hints of apology in her eyes, "we've already made arrangements with Malfoy."

Irene squeezed her eyes shut and turned back around.

"Adrian," she smiled, trying to squeeze through the crowd of Gryffindors, "have you found a partner yet?"

"I'll be working with Oliver," he replied, and for some reason looked away. Nott nodded, confirming his words.

"Okay. That's fine!" Irene took a deep breath. The prospect of being paired with some not-so-intelligent student, much less a Gryffindor, did not appeal to her. She staggered back to the table with the empty cauldron. Сome what may.

"I'll work with you," the voice behind her sounded as if it had struck with the full weight of several tons.

Irene froze. Tom approached the table in a measured manner and began to take out different things from a small box. There were scales and various vials of herbs that appeared to be needed for cooking. He didn't look at her once, which made the atmosphere seem less oppressive. Irene mentally imagined how the Orbis spell would have buried Riddle alive under the ground, which made her smile involuntarily. It's a pity there were too many wizards around, otherwise this plan could have been implemented. With a humble exhale, she opened her mouth to start a peaceful dialogue, prioritizing the points.

"I will—" the voices sounded in unison.

It was like an electric shock passed through the body. Their eyes collided. They looked like two predators, frozen, waiting. A deathly silence reigned over the table, which lasted for a moment. But both were ready to swear that this moment dragged on too long.

"The recipe includes an infusion of wormwood, the juice of sopophorous beans, valerian root, and powdered root of Asphodel," Tom finally said. "Find the infusion, and I'll prepare the last three ingredients."

Irene nodded silently, sliding the box of many vials toward her, and Tom started counting the beans. The work was painstaking, and soon each student was absorbed.

Tom pressed the blade on the bean with force, causing it to slip and fly right into Irene's face.

"Ow!" she cried out. The bean fell at her feet.

"Don't yell. Nothing happened," Riddle said coldly, stepping closer, then leaning over to pick up the ill-fated bean and return it to the plank where it was destined to be cut.

"If you want to kill me, pick a quicker way to do it, not a bean-to-the-head shot. You can't put a hole in my head like that," she gritted through her teeth toward the black curly mop near her knees. She only gave a silent gasp, and he already accused her of being hysterical. Either he had troubles with understanding emotions and reactions, or this was another attempt to sneer.

Tom froze. Irene swallowed hard, realizing that sarcasm sometimes still needed to be dosed. 'He definitely won't kill me here. So, it's okay,' she thought.

Riddle slowly stood up and turned around. He was too close. The large figure hovered over Irene, and she could think of nothing better to do than stare stubbornly at the Slytherin patch on his chest. The close presence and the searching gaze she could physically feel on her body made her uncomfortable. It seemed as if a huge thundercloud had frozen over her head. The atmosphere was pressing, and so was the silence of Tom, whose face was frozen into a lifeless mask.

"Tom, put the knife plate on the bean. Crush it, not cut it," Irene finally blurted out, and immediately thought that she was wrong. At her suggestion, maybe Tom will grab a knife now and crush, only not the bean, but her head.

But he returned to his place without uttering a word, and continued his execution of the beans. Steam was coming out of the cauldron. The work was in full swing. Irene poured in the right amount of infusion of.

"Tom, the beans."

He silently poured in the already squeezed juice.

"Something's wrong," he finally said. "There's something wrong with the potion."

"How much did you squeeze out?"

"Twelve, like the book said."

"Give me the thirteenth."

Tom looked at Irene as if she were insane, and then said as if she had just escaped from St Mungo's Hospital, "Irene, I see, of course, that you're a perfectly mediocre student, and an average grade is enough for you. But I need a high one. Besides, I'm a member of Professor Slughorn's Slug Club, and I'm not going to let you ruin that for good."

Irene chuckled loudly.

"Okay... I promised to earn points. The bean, Tom." She held out her palm.

Riddle didn't answer. Then he defiantly placed the bean loudly on the wooden surface of the table in front of her. Irene snorted, but took it. She pressed it down firmly, until the juice emerged, and then squeezed it over the cauldron with the same concerted movements. Riddle watched intently. The next moment a large puff of steam came out of the cauldron, and it dissipated instantly.

"Time's up," said professor. "Who's ready?"

For the first time ever, Irene and Tom, ready to fight over the bean, glanced around the entire classroom. The students looked haggard, disheveled, and frustrated. Somewhere nearby, with his arms crossed over the chest, Malfoy stood staring haughtily at the shelf in the corner of the classroom. Grace's haughty gaze was fixed on the window. In the center of their table stood the cauldron, next to which was an incomprehensible slurry of dark green. Lestrange and Avery were staring at the board, broken in half, next to which was a pile of beans. Rosier quietly rocked the scales and watched as they squeaked and danced in the air. The two rows of Gryffindor students didn't look their best either.

"We're ready!" Irene stated confidently in a loud voice.

Slughorn walked over to the cauldron and then threw a small leaf into it, which just disappeared.

"Merlin's beard! It's perfect!" he cried out. "Tom, that's great!"

Irene coughed. Tom nodded to the professor with a polite smile. Irene coughed a second time.

"Thank you, Professor," Tom said courteously.

"Yes, Professor," Irene had the same fake-beautiful smile on her face. "I have made a great contribution to the preparation of this potion. I'm very pleased that you took that into account."

For a split second, Horace's face showed surprise, he glanced briefly at Tom, and then at Irene.

"Yes, Miss Düster did a quite good job," Riddle finally let out, nodding in her direction as if he were doing her a favor.

"Thank you," she nodded back.

'Son of a bitch! Quite good. QUITE GOOD! Without me, you would have failed this assignment as successfully as all the others,' the angry thoughts flitted around in her head.

"In that case, Miss Düster, I'll see you at my club in two weeks. And yes, ten points to Slytherin!"

The students made a noise like a hive of bees, leaving the classroom. Irene rushed to the epicenter of the crowd, just not to stay in contact with Tom for a second more. She kept her promise.

The feeling of heavy hands on the back of the head. Irene turned around sharply. No one. Students were leaving the classroom, filling the space with loud voices. Riddle was still standing at his desk, to which Mia Harrison was confidently advancing. A malicious smile involuntarily appeared on Irene's pale, emaciated face from the anticipation of Tom's torments, tormented by such annoying attention from the lady of the lion house, which did not interest him at all.

"Irene!" Katherine's ringing voice brought her back to reality. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You always sat with Malfoy."

"You and Tom did a great job. And you're in our club now!" Grace was sparkling with joy. "There's going to be a party organized soon. Do you have the right dress?"

"I don't know, I need to check my suitcase."

Abraxas approached the girls. He took Katherine by the arm and together they went to the dungeon. Irene looked at them and thought for a moment: How do people feel when they are in love? It was the first time that the question had arisen in her mind. Over the past few years, she had no time to think about her feelings and emotions, but she skillfully understood others and knew which strings to pull to get the desired result.

There was no one around, everyone had gone about their business, and Irene wandered lazily down the corridor. The door to the Potions classroom slammed shut with a clang right behind her. Mia dashed past, sobbing loudly. For the first time, it seemed, she paid no attention to Irene, who involuntarily grimaced in disgust at the sight of tears, and then leisurely continued her way to the Slytherin living room.