Chapter 6. The Secret

Resentment with a touch of anger and hatred took over his mind. Every movement and step were light, flying. The sharp cheekbones on his handsome face were tense enough to make it seem like you could hear his teeth grinding. Tom Riddle abruptly opened the door to the girls' room without waiting for permission to enter.

"Irene Düster, out!" The demanding voice made everyone present turn around.

Katherine jumped up excitedly from the bed, giving Tom a questioning but wary look. He did not react in any way. His whole being wanted to grab the stubborn girl by the hair and drag her off the bed, reveling in her cry of pain. That girl was Irene. She was nonchalantly dangling her legs off the bed and finishing her morning makeup. Loosely and leisurely, she set aside her vintage comb, adjusted her robe, and tossed her unruly curls back.

"Why?" she asked. A morning yawn ate the end of the question, forcing her to cover her mouth.

The fellow students looked at Irene like she was crazy. The corners of Tom's lips twitched, revealing emotion.

"Irene, just listen to our Head Boy," Katherine asked softly, catching Tom's unnoticed reaction and nudging Irene off the bed.

With a look of the most snobbish favor, Irene got out of bed and slowly wandered toward the exit. Tom stood in the doorway, not about to go anywhere, but moved slightly to the side, allowing her to leave. To everyone around, of course, he was acting like a gentleman who was waiting for a lady to exit so he could close the door.

A pleasant, faint odor hit Irene's nose – her lower abdomen tightened painfully. Tom was very tall, and she noted to herself that she could reach his chest or shoulders, no taller. Her gaze locked on his pale, long fingers, which were too tense, but damn handsome. The black hair rippled with a curt nod of her head, Irene's way of warding off intrusive thoughts.

As soon as she was in the hallway leading to the common living room, the door slammed shut sharply. Tom followed at heels, making her a little uneasy, and persisted in his silence. Of course, Irene wondered what the reason was for his unceremonious appearance in the room, but since he had come, he would probably talk too. Seeing the familiar furnishings with tapestries and leather sofas, Irene yawned loudly.

At that very moment, Tom overtook her, walking too close. Intentionally or not, he hit her painfully with his forearm. Irene took a deep breath without making a single sound, but only tensed violently and silently hugged her shoulder. She glared at Tom and thought, what a jumbo! Skinny, but still like a bull in a china shop. No, he did it on purpose.

"To the headmaster's office," Tom said sternly. "We're going to class, and you're going to the headmaster's office." He was silent for only a moment, which Irene barely had time to open her mouth, and then he hissed through his teeth, "I swear to Merlin, if you defame the name of our faculty, I'll–"

"Kill me?" Irene chuckled back at him.

Tom froze. Irene froze as well. Her sarcastic face with the mocking smile disappeared immediately. It was time to admit, sometimes her big mouth was a problem.

Tom abruptly turned around and gave Irene a sizzling look full of dislike. Irene automatically put on a silly girl's mask with a sweet smile, and noted to herself that he was about to have steam coming out of his ears.

"I've already told you. The status and behavior of our faculty–"

"Should be purer than the aura in St. Paul's Cathedral," Irene said like a common soldier. She almost saluted, but she held back, or Tom would definitely explode from such a prank. Nevertheless, she's here, the headmaster is expecting her... is this really something serious? Or is it just a little thing? Or is it? "Why am I being summoned? Did you snitch on me?" Irene asked.

"What are you talking about?" Tom said, and immediately fixed his gaze on Irene's pale face, trying not to miss a single reaction.

Irene raised her head and looked at Tom, trying to figure out what kind of game he was playing. What did mean 'What are you talking about?' After all, he was the one who sent his friends to spy on her. Yes, she had erased their memories, but Tom wasn't an idiot, he obviously knew something had happened. If he really did tell everything, then a powerful wizard, like Dumbledore for example could remove the obliviate... Then down the drain... But the 'status and behavior' that Tom had been lamenting relentlessly about went against that theory.

Ignorance was nauseating. Irene clenched her fists. If she'd served up herself on a plate, it was the end, and a very, very stupid one.

"To the headmaster's office," Tom ordered.

"Tom, I've saved you from Mia several times. Can't you just tell me what happened and what I need to be prepared for?" Irene said in all seriousness.

"Sweet Irene!" Eyebrows rose theatrically. Is he... Mirroring her? "Sometimes I think you could be a successful actress, or at least a traveling circus performer," the smile was more like a grin. "You'll figure it out on your own," Tom finished coldly, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

'What a jerk,' Irene snorted to herself.

She strode away from the dungeon and into the Headmaster's Tower of Hogwarts, thinking up behavior and stories that anyone could believe. Nothing terrible had happened, at least not yet. There was nothing to make up. She needed act on the situation.

The already familiar gargoyle and the stairs leading upstairs made the overall condition more and more depressing. The door to the office was open.

"Miss Duester!" Professor Dippet waved his hand, inviting in.

"Good morning," Irene greeted politely and walked inside.

"Have a seat!"

She sat down on the chair, waiting to see what would happen next. There was no one else in the office. Everything seemed calm enough, but Riddle had reacted hysterically, so there were two possibilities: either Tom was hysterical or Irene was screwed.

"Something wrong, Headmaster?" Emerald eyes became doll-like round and innocent.

"Ah, there's Miss Harrison!"

Hurried footsteps sounded behind. A tall girl with blonde hair sat down next to Irene.

"Good morning, professor Dippet!" Mia smiled, not once looking at Irene.

"I'm listening to you."

"I, with the powers and duties of the head girl, made a nightly round of the corridors last night. And this student," Mia said, and Irene listened attentively. The heavy weight of ignorance of what was to come vanished in an instant. Everything became crystal clear. "This student was walking the corridors of the castle at night! She was doing something in front of the Transfiguration room! I saw it myself! And that is a gross misdemeanor for which you can expel a girl who is... An irresponsible, deliberately disruptive student!"

The urge to laugh out loud was very hard to suppress, but Irene held on with all her might. She focused on the ink jar that stood on the very edge of the headmaster's desk.

"Well... This really isn't good," the headmaster's voice sounded calm.

"I believe that rule-breaking should be punished." The Gryffindor nature was coming out. Of course, Irene was wrong to be walking the corridors at night, of course it was a breach of the rules. But Katherine Grace's words about 'half-wits and recklessness' made so much sense now that Irene was once again convinced: Slytherin was her home. Thank Merlin she'd gotten into that house. It was easier to put up with Riddle than a whole house of people like Harrison. Tom suspected Irene of something, Irene had seen his company leaving the drawing room after lights out.... And all of them, knowing full well that everyone was playing their own shadowy game, were silent. Just silent. And what was that? Certainly, half-wits and recklessness.

"What do you say to that?" The headmaster turned to Irene.

"I want to say that it was really like that."

"I told you so!" Mia shrieked.

"After everything that happened..." Irene swallowed heavily and looked down. "I... sometimes I have nightmares, and I sleepwalk.... Yesterday, I woke up at the classroom door and immediately headed back to the dungeon. Isn't that right, Mia? You saw how I suddenly acted differently at some point, didn't you?"

Harrison blushed, reminding Irene of the orphanage boy who looked like a tomato all the time.

"Yes, you left, but..."

"In that case, there's nothing wrong," the headmaster said calmly, ending the pointless conversation. "Miss Duester, be careful from now on and go to the hospital wing if it gets worse. Miss Harrison, you're doing a great job as Head Girl! You may go to class now."

Both students nodded obediently and headed down the spiral staircase. In the deserted corridor, they walked side by side in complete silence. Irene could have turned to the first nook and cranny for any excuse, but she decided to do something different. To Mia's right was the door to an empty classroom. Once there, Irene pushed the Gryffindor into it with all her might. Without giving Mia a cherished second to realize, she blurted out, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Harrison collapsed to the floor before she could even touch her wand. The door slammed shut. With a few gestures of the pale fingers, silencing and protection charms filled the space. Irene stepped closer to the body lying on the floor and hissed like a viper, "Sweet Mia! You look so pathetic in your affection for Riddle, and how funny it is to watch your jealousy. If you only knew how much I don't care! About you, about him, about everyone. You know? And now I'm wondering what to do with you. You picked the wrong victim. You decided to play cat and mouse with me, thinking you're a predatory lion, but in reality, you're just a mangy cat, and I'm not a mouse... I'm a snake. And like a snake, I'm gonna swallow you. Digest you. And then I'll shit you out and you'll be nothing but a miserable pile of shit, Mia Harrison."

Irene looked serious and cold-blooded. To top it all off, she laughed an obnoxious ringing laugh - she was just amused with her own words, but still, that's exactly what she meant - a direct threat. Just unlike Mia, Irene was having fun.

Harrison's motivation became clear back in the office - it was jealousy. But she poked Her nose into Irene's business. High school dramas with first love and intricacies were definitely not for Irene - too primitive and silly.

Irene snorted. Why was everyone so drawn to that damn Riddle? It was annoying. The handsome crammer that everyone prayed to and held up as an example. And he managed to cause trouble, not directly, but indirectly.

"Legilimens," Irene said, getting into the head of the defenseless Mia, who was bound by a spell. Something won out in that moment. Maybe interest, chased away every time Tom was too close? Maybe. Except she'd never admit it to herself.

Mia is trying to have a nice conversation with Tom, but he's so... indifferent, cold, and this time he's also- irritated? It's the first time. It's right after class, when they brewed the potion and earned points. He's looking somewhere behind Mia, clinging with his whole being to the distant silhouette. He's looking at Irene leaving the classroom.

"Tom, why don't we study together in the library today? Just in peace and quiet? And also," Mia cheers, playing with her blonde long hair, "and also now we can walk the night corridors of Hogwarts together, exploring its hidden corners, filled with magic, just like last year! I'm a Head Girl now!"

He doesn't listen to her at all. She notices his gaze and turns around, observing the black top of Irene's head.

"What's so special about her?" she asked with some irritation.

"Mia," Tom finally looks into the bright eyes, "when are you going to realize this already? It's not about other girls. You're just... Gryffindor. Our essence, it's different, you know? Your principles, your behavior, it's all so..." the intense stare of night-black eyes that sent shivers down her spine. He didn't want to play any more of these pestering games that were completely uninteresting. "Disgusting. It's so repulsive. It's so incomprehensible and foreign to me. Our worldviews are different. You are ready to believe in fairy tales and divide the world into good and evil, to believe in friendship and love. All of that," he grinned, "is so stupid. Your inner self is of no interest to me at all. If you think I'll ever look at a girl with that kind of attitude in my life, you don't know me very well and you're in love with an image you've made up for yourself."

"Who would you look at?" Mia's emotions took over, making Tom feel even more uncomfortable. "That newly minted Slytherin? Of course!"

"Stop talking," he demanded sternly.

"Why? I mean, she's... she's not even pretty! No height! And that, uh. hair!"

"Mia, stop. I don't care about you, and I don't care about that girl. Get over it. It's not about her. I just want you to leave me alone. I'm not interested in any of this. Do you understand?"

Mia blushed, holding back tears. It hurt unbearably. And last school year, he'd even called her with him on night duty a couple times, and they'd just walked the halls in silence... Abruptly turning around, she hurried away from the classroom. In the corridor, through the veil of tears, she saw a black hair, but she didn't care. He had rejected her, the best student in Potions, and more! And everyone said they would have made a good couple. She was from an aristocratic pureblood family, just like him, and he was just like her.

Tears slowly flowed down Mia's cheeks. Irene cast a look of contempt on the body lying on the floor.

"Really? Riddle told you that he doesn't care about you, just like he does about me, and you still came up with revenge?" Irene burst into a roaring laughter again. "But I understand him. The worst part of this situation is that you're stupid beyond belief, Mia Harrison. Obliviate!"

Irene corrected Harrison's memories and, leaving her in the empty room, headed to class. The feeling of irritation never left, though she went on impulse and let it all out. The day had been a mess since the morning. Some silly childish drama was constantly getting in the way, which was incredibly annoying and, most disgusting of all, could really ruin everything.

Potions had already been skipped anyway, and there was no point in going to the dungeon, so Irene headed straight for the stairs where she met Katherine.

"I love this classroom, Katherine," Irene muttered some meaningless nonsense as she walked, just to distract herself from the unlucky morning. "Such a gorgeous view of the Black Lake!"

"Tell me about it! I sometimes just disconnect from what Professor Merrythought tells us and just look out the window," Katherine laughed.

They went up to the classroom and took the second desk in the right row. Katherine informed that she wanted to be with Irene because she had already missed her, so Abraxas was destined to manage on his own somehow.

Gradually, the classroom filled with other students, and two figures of tall young men loomed at the entrance: a platinum blonde with a cold, haughty look, and a brunette with a heavy but magnetic one. Everyone wanted to look at both of them again and again. They walked slowly to the third desk in the right row, which was right behind the girls.

"I can't stand it," Irene muttered, "as if there were no other seats."

"Come on," Katherine poked her in the side. "Everything's fine. It's been two months and you can't get used to us studying together. Besides, there's a class today with those..." she cast a disgruntled glance to the left row, where Gryffindor was. Irene didn't say anything, she didn't care.

She was worried about a slightly different potential event, such as a sudden 45-degree temperature. From that, the prospect of competing with Gryffindor seemed far more appealing than Mr. Riddle's unwarranted volcanic attack, which could happen at any moment. The fact that Tom did not perceive her in any way, but only negatively, Irene had considered even the first time they'd met. She still carefully avoided all possible ways of crossing paths with Tom: she wandered around Hogwarts, sat in the girls' room, and came to the Slytherin common room after lights out, when he was sleeping in the boys' wing, and the chance that he would show up there was minimized.

"Good afternoon!" came Galatea Merrythought's voice. "The topic of today's class is Boggarts. Do you have anything to say?"

Three hands raised from the Gryffindor row. Whether any of the hands were raised from Slytherin was unclear. Irene had to turn around. To her surprise, even the know-it-all Riddle was sitting still and concentrating, staring somewhere in a textbook. Abraxas, on the other hand, threw a slightly annoyed look that read 'stop spinning like a windmill'.

'Wow!' Irene thought. 'The Hogwarts nerd took the day off today.' The next second, her hand flew up confidently. Slytherin should earn points, and she a little plus to her karma, no way around it.

"Okay," the professor smiled, "since Gryffindor was first, I'm listening!" She nodded approvingly towards the left row.

"Boggarts are a type of ghost. No one knows what they really look like, because they change their shape depending on what or who the person in front of them is afraid of."

"That's right. Five points to Gryffindor."

Irene's hand was still raised. It was getting harder and harder to ignore that fact.

"Do you have anything to add?" Professor asked politely.

"Yes, Professor," at that moment, her entire body felt hot. 'Damn Riddle!' rushed through her head, 'not now! I'm saving our house and you're having another attack!' "As has been said, a boggart differs from other ghosts in that it can transform into the creature, object, or subject that one fears most. They usually dwell in the nooks and crannies of the house, under the bed, in a drawer under the sink, in closets, sometimes even in a floor clock case, as they like the dark. While the boggart is, say, in the closet, it is still nothing, as it does not know who and what it will scare. Also, people have an advantage when there are many of them, since the boggart doesn't know whose fear to pick. The best weapon against a boggart is laughter. There is also a special spell against boggart."

"Impressed," Professor Merrythought smiled. "Perhaps you know the spell too, Miss Duester?"

"You have to visualize some detail that will make the boggart a laughingstock, and say it firmly, distinctly: Riddikulus."

There was silence in the classroom.

"Ten points to Slytherin," the professor finally stated. "Well, now we will move on to practice."

With a slight movement of her wand, Professor Merrythought levitated the wardrobe into the center of the classroom. Irene unbuttoned her robe, letting out a nervous sigh.

"Is everything all right?" Katherine whispered.

"Yeah, it's just really hot," Irene mumbled back.

"I'm always hot, too. We're dungeon children! We want it to be fifteen plus, no more."

Irene nodded, realizing that Katherine couldn't imagine what she was feeling right now. It was frankly starting to get annoying. 'If you're going to kill me, just use the unforgivable one!' Irene thought with displeasure.

Students began lining up to practice the Riddikulus spell. The next second, Irene felt someone put two palms on her head and began to insistently stroke every inch of the back of her head. Legilimency. Well, here we go again! Another abyss of irritation completely took over the mind. Cautiously looking around, Irene tried to figure out who it was. Of course, the first person she suspected was a dark-haired, aristocratic-looking young man, but he was standing with his back to her, waiting for his turn. Whatever, Irene decided in the end. Whoever it was, he wasn't going to make it anyway. The queue moved inexorably forward, and the boggart took many different forms: a large insect, or failure of exams, or dead relatives...

Finally, it was Irene's turn. There were very few students left behind her: Riddle, Malfoy, Grace, Rosier, and a couple other guys. She was looking at the wardrobe with concentration, but along with her, Riddle was looking at it with curiosity. No one noticed it, but he froze like a predator in anticipation of what he could manipulate in the future.

The wardrobe doors swung open sharply. Empty. Everyone around held their breath. Nothing was happening. Professor Merrythought was batting her eyes in surprise. Riddle was concentrating on trying to make out something in the darkness. In the next second, a tall brunette with an attractive appearance came out of the wardrobe. He leisurely took a couple steps towards Irene. A second, his breathless body collapsed at her feet.

"Miss Duester, try Riddikulus," the professor said quietly, stunned at what was happening, but Irene stared silently at the body lying at her feet.

What the hell was that? She slowly turned around. Dozens of pairs of eyes were staring at her... but the only ones were staring at dead self. Riddle's cheekbones tensed and his fingers gripped the robe too tightly, turning white.

"Irene, you need to deal with your fear, use Riddikulus," the professor insisted. Irene stared at the dead body again and took an uncertain step back, trying to say something, but all that came out of her mouth was an inarticulate wheeze. She looked so confused, but Merlin only knew why.

"Riddikulus!" Riddle spat out coldly into his deadly pale face on the floor. Boggart transformed into a small black-haired girl, wearing a brightly colored Harlequin costume, who held a snake in her hand. She began to laugh loudly and spin around as if a traveling circus had just burst into the classroom.

Everyone around stood in silent amazement, not realizing what had happened. Irene stared into the emerald eyes of the little girl opposite, who held out her pale, skinny hands with a large python. It had gotten worse. The air was cut off like water on a faucet. Irene hurriedly dropped a phrase to the professor, "Excuse me, I have to go out."

Merrythought nodded calmly, giving permission. Situations like this were the rule rather than the exception. Not all students could handle the tension. The clacking of heels did not drown out the whispers of the students. Every cell of the Irene's being sharpened, absorbing the words and thoughts of everyone around her that 'the new girl is in love with Riddle and fears he's dead. 'That's the last thing we need!' Irene mentally spat into the crowd of Gryffindors. The urge to burn everything and everyone arose on its own. So sickening!

She ran down the stairs. The feverish heat had finally passed, but it didn't make it any easier. The whole atmosphere was very pressurized and irritating.

"That's not why I came here," she grumbled to herself. "Why are you all bothering me? I hate it."

Without noticing Irene was on the second floor, she pushed open the bathroom door. Quickly running to the sink, she turned the faucet, but there was no water. Instead of a ringing stream of water, a barely audible voice was heard in her ears. Resting both hands on the white marble, she inhaled deeply in an attempt to relax, but then there was the creak of the door. Confident footsteps.

"You have two options. The first, you maintain the idea that it's your fear. If you have to, pretend to be a fool in love, I don't care how you do it."

"The second?" Irene asked, not wanting to turn around.

"And the second, I'll just fix your memory. You'll be like a cute rag doll, thinking the way I want you to think."

So that's how it works. He's a master of dark magic after all. Standing there, literally threatening to fix her memory. That's a lot of confidence. Or a bluff of the highest order. He did try to find out what happened from Avery and Lestrange, but he sure didn't succeed. Had he just hinted to her about his possible abilities? He'd said it on purpose, to provoke, to test her reaction, and to see for sure she was involved in the fact that his comrades could not tell anything.

Irene slowly turned around. Her smile was fake to the point that anyone would have realized her true emotions. Riddle was cold and unapproachable. He was filled with an iron stamina and calmness that was sorely lacking in Irene at this moment.

"You know, there is a third option," she grinned, slowly approaching Tom. His eyebrow arched in mute question. Not that he was ready to take her option, but hearing what trick she'd pull this time was really exciting. "Would you fuck off, Riddle?"

He had absolutely no reaction, and his face was still as akin to stone.

Irene came very close and brazenly thrust her face upward, sizzling with a look of hatred and dislike. She basically didn't care. It was just that everyone was annoying. Everyone was coming in like a cloud of gnats in a damp forest and annoying her so much.

"What?" she grunted. "What are you going to do? You think you're the leader, everyone worships you. And you... just a boy, a nerd who wants to be better than everyone else. What's your complex? You're picking on me with your dislike. I don't care about you! I don't give a damn about you and your emotions and your admirers and your fears! Merlin, Tom... Will you give it a rest? Did I steal your toy in the orphanage? Did I break it? Do you want me to buy you a new one? Just tell me what it was. I don't fucking remember. Do you understand? Can you be so kind? You're the aristocrat of wizarding society. A pureblood of the purebloods! You could have given me a polite hint, after all."

A scarlet glow flashed in his black eyes. Abruptly grabbing her chin and neck with both hands, Tom sealed Irene right into the shells, obscuring her with his height. He bent his head down and pressed against her cheek, hissing viciously, "Don't think you're the smartest and strongest." His breath hitched and his fingers gripped her chin harder, forcing to look up. "I don't care about you any more than you care about me. I told you a long time ago, no fucking accidents. Hogwarts has to work. No situation that could shut it down. Do you understand?"

"Oh, you don't want to go back to the orphanage!" Irene said theatrically sadly, immediately receiving a strong push in return, painfully knocking her into the tile. A pleasant languor filled her lower abdomen. Her breathing became ragged.

"Shut up," Riddle growled, putting his palm over her mouth.

The trousers were getting too tight. The urge to rip the thin pantyhose, to pull up her skirt and just dig into her body, clouded the mind and turned off logic. To wrap her hair around a fist and make her scream in pain for all the hurt and bitterness she'd caused. For that disgusting odor of hair that made him horny every time. To strangle her with the bare hands right here and dump the dead body in a chamber of secret to decompose there. To end this bitch who had flown in like a hurricane again into an already ordered life. It was always chaos and disorder because of her. And Merlin forbid that lying bitch, who was obviously plotting some sort of scheme, would get Hogwarts shut down. He's not going back to the orphanage. He's not going back to a fucking Muggle orphanage!

A deep breath. Suppression of emotion. Taming the lust. Wow, that's how it is.

Previously, his jaw muscles were moving from anger, resentment, aggression, envy — from all those suppressed emotions. And he tried so hard to extinguish them, to hide them deep inside, to cover them with an impenetrable wall, and let them eat him to hell from the inside, but he would never bare them and would never show them to anyone. He'd gone out of his way to look like the most model student, well-mannered and proper. And now this fucking desire, which came on top of the aggression and resentment ... And if the latter Irene deserved it, because she hadn't kept a single word, the former was really hard to deal with. The familiar feeling of anger was constantly mixed with lust, and it was so damn hard to control.

He slowly took his hand away from Irene's pale face and took a step back.

Irene frowned, and irritation rippled through her body. Tom nodded questioningly, waiting for an answer, but she only inhaled deeply, the sound as jagged as a tantrum.

"I won't tell anyone if you tell me what happened at the orphanage," she said quietly, agonizing with ignorance, hoping Tom would remove it just a little.

"You don't get it," he smirked. "It's not a reciprocity. Then I'll have to-" His hand reached for a magic wand.

"Stop!" She took a sharp step forward, barely catching his wrist with her fingers, and Tom jerked back, unwilling to feel her touch, even if it was subtle, through his clothes. "I'm so sorry for everything I said, okay? I'm just still having a hard time with the change of pace. You know my school was burned down, that's not easy to take, Tom."

He listened intently, looking into the pale face. All of Irene's emotions suddenly faded dramatically and she became malleable, accepting his rules, which was even less trustworthy.

"I won't tell anyone. And if I don't keep my word, you'll do as you see fit."

Tom nodded silently after a moment's hesitation, then tucked his wand away in the inner pocket of his robe. He walked away, leaving Irene in the silence she had longed for all day.

With a wave of her palm, there was a silencing charm. She couldn't take it anymore, and a cry of anger and despair burst out of her throat. Irene threw an exploding charm at the corner booth, and it shattered. Water spurted out in a fountain, showering the room.

She thought it would be difficult, but not in terms of emotions and stupid clingy complexes. Fatigue suddenly overtook every cell of her body, and it seemed as if her strength had left her. Her disheveled, wet hair stuck to the face. Irene hurriedly cleaned up the mess, then headed out of the abandoned second floor bathroom.

Mia Harrison was standing in the hallway. Here we go again! She realized, of course, that Irene was with Tom. Maybe Irene shouldn't have corrected Mia's memory and then she wouldn't have been all dumb and bold? She's got to be kidding! To follow her lover around! The urge to use the unforgivable for blatant stupidity and disrespect was hard to suppress.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Mia said as she strode forward.

"For what?" Irene spat out two short words as coldly as if she'd driven two nails in.

"You trashed the bathroom, I saw you."

Well, of course! Irene put the silencing charms on, but she forgot to lock the door, hoping that no one would come to the abandoned bathroom. Pursing her lips, stifling curses, she nodded silently. There was no point in arguing, otherwise they could have fought right there, and then Düster would definitely have been expelled — not the best prospect and very stupid. It was necessary to act differently. Accepting the will of fate, Irene simply went to class, simultaneously putting herself in order with the help of household spells. Merlin only knew that her whole insides were bubbling with hatred and choking with bile.

Having lived until the evening in some miraculous way, she was finally able to just sit down by the favorite fireplace. It wasn't long before Rosier sat down next to her and silently opened his textbook.

"Hello, Adrian," Irene rambled, flipping a page.

"Good evening," Rosier couldn't hold back a smile and immediately glared at her with a smirk.

"Did you want something?"

"I wanted... I just wanted to," he crumpled, giving himself away. Irene looked straight into his eyes, making Rosier look embarrassed. "Shit," he smiled.

"Adrian, come on," Irene laughed, unable to keep her mask of malice, realizing that he was so good-looking and sweet.

"I just wanted to sit next to you. You don't even have to talk to me. Especially since I deserve it, I know."

"It's fine," she shrugged, knowing full well that Riddle kept everyone on a short leash, and she intended to find the reason why. It even seemed to already be clear which direction to dig up on. Only that would come later, after she'd solved her problems and had nothing else to do. A kind of spare hobby in case of idleness.

Noise and stomping. The male half of the seventh year poured into the living room, filling the space with a cheerful clamor. Katherine was there, too.

"Hey, Adrian!" Adalbert waved his palm cheerfully. "Come on!"

"What, already?" Rosier smiled, leaving the cozy place by the fireplace.

The crowd of students went somewhere, only Katherine remained, waving her palm and chirping sweetly. As soon as the boys were out of sight, she immediately went to Irene.

"What's all the commotion?" Irene asked indifferently.

"Tom got his own room, so he doesn't live with us anymore."

"Wow!" Irene didn't even try to hide her sarcastic tone. "Now he has a place to take the girls."

"Irene!" Katherine's gaze was judgmental. "He does a lot for our house. He really is the best and he deserves it!"

"He's also that pain in the ass."

"Irene!" Katherine said, furrowing her brow. "I understand, it's probably because you like him so much..."

"What?" Irene hissed venomously. "I like Riddle?!"

"But everyone knows that now... after today's class!" The surprised gaze of the clear blue eyes looked straight into Irene's soul with their direct sincerity.

"I beg you. I'm just afraid I'm going to swat your Riddle and get sent to Nurmengard."

"We have Azkaban!" Katherine laughed. "No seriously. Do you like him?" the question came out in a whisper.

"No," Irene replied sternly, accepting no arguments. "Tell me better, what is your patrol schedule?"

"Well, today Riddle..."

"Who else?"

"I was yesterday... Vincent was from Ravenclaw… the day before yesterday. So, it's Gryffindor today. Oh, right! They've got a new Head Girl! Can you believe it?" Katherine gave a venomous laugh. Irene already knew the answer, but it was nice to see the sly snake reveling in her superiority over the stupid Gryffindor. "Mia Harrison! Poor Tom!" she laughed out loud at her bursting emotions. She wasn't at the mansion for dinner, after all, and she could get to laugh out loud.

"I can't say I feel sorry for Riddle, but it's awful," Irene muttered.

"I'll go see what our boys are doing."

Irene stared into the flames of the playing fire and made a decision. It was a stupid decision, but she couldn't bear it any longer. It was absurd to be constantly distracted by petty squabbles, and she wasn't even the one who provoked conflicts.... Maybe sometimes she got into a verbal altercation with Riddle for fun, but that was nothing!

When everyone had fallen into a deep sleep as they wish or at someone's ornate wave of a wand, the gloomy silhouette silently left the girls' room and cautiously headed to the upper floors. Hogwarts made fall in love with its magical atmosphere all over again. Stopping right at the stairs, Irene lazily examined the portrait of a wizardess she didn't know sleeping on it. right situation was not long in coming.

"Here you are again!" Mia cried out. "You're going to get expelled this time."

Harrison quickly paced down the stairs, rapidly approaching Irene.

"Hello, Mia!" A predatory grin.

"Are you going to say you're just sleepwalking at night again?"

"Of course, I am! It happens after a stressful experience, you know."

"Ten points from Slytherin!" Mia announced triumphantly, tossing her blonde hair back.

"That's it?" Irene raised eyebrows theatrically and pitifully.

"No! I'll have you expelled." How easy it was for the lion house to get emotional, to hurt their keen sense of justice.

"Then, dear Mia, the occasion must be more serious," Irene grinned, glancing up. From the fifth floor, the Hogwarts Prefect was quietly descending, watching what was happening. He was quite far away, so Mia couldn't hear his footsteps.

"Imperio!" Irene whispered.

Mia, like a puppet being yanked by the right strings, pushed Irene down the stairs with force.

A deep breath, like before jumping into an icy ocean.

The pain made scream. A hard thump on the steps. The salty taste of blood in the mouth. A ragged breath. Consciousness slipped away, letting the darkness drag with its clinging paws into oblivion. Irene moved her fingers with the last of her strength, undoing the unforgivable.

Darkness.

"Mia!" Tom shrieked. Hurried footsteps echoed. The woman in the portrait woke up and began to gasp at what she saw. She was shoked.

"I, I..." Mia froze. "I didn't...no, no... I didn't mean to! It was, uh… it was an accident!" She mumbled something slurred, unable to accept that Irene's body was lying at the bottom of the stairs.

"To your room! And tomorrow to the Headmaster," Riddle blurted out coldly, hurrying downstairs. He knelt before Irene, grasping her pale, thin wrist. Alive. A relieved exhalation. In an instant he grabbed the broken body in his arms.

"Tom, I..." tears welled up in Harrison's eyes.

"Tomorrow at the headmaster's office," the equanimity in his voice made her wince.

Even here, that bloody Gryffindor is in the way! All his mind was occupied with getting to the hospital wing as soon as possible, not the snot and tears of a girl who was wallowing in her disgusting, pathetic emotions of some contrived love and affection.

Harrison sobbed and ran away. Riddle looked at Irene's pale face, with bloody curls stuck to her forehead. He was the one who could beat her to a bloody pulp, he was the one who could break her bones. He was the one who had the right to torture her into madness with Cruciatus. He was the one who could do absolutely anything he wanted to her. But no one else could.

What if they do something wrong? What if they miss something? What if they don't save her? Greed for that little girl with the black, disheveled hair, breathless in his strong arms, took over.

Hurried steps to the eighth floor. Someplace where no one would interrupt. Room of Requirement. It had everything he needed: a small fireplace that warmed the room, a bed, a small table, and a nightstand.

Tom placed her body onto the light-colored sheets, hurriedly removed her robe and shoes, pulled off her dress in a confident motion, and... For a moment he froze. She had changed a lot. Grown up. There wasn't a hint of the eleven-year-old skinny girl left. Tom swallowed hard, realizing he wasn't looking at the wounds, but at the woman's beautiful curves, just as he had in the bathroom. A grin from the realization that he had just taken his deliberately concealed desire to see Irene naked once again right by the throat. Allowing himself another moment to revel in her femininity, which was literally driving him crazy and driving his mind into a "want" flavored haze, he pushed the intrusive thoughts away, pulling himself together. He touched the potential fracture sites, then nodded to himself and walked away.

It wasn't long before he returned with several vials: Skele-Gro, Blood-Replenishing Potion, and Wiggenweld Potion. His movements were confident, coherent. Gently he lifted her head. His long fingers were buried in thick black curls, and in the back of his mind there was a barely perceptible thought of 'take advantage'. His other hand confidently squeezed the girl's cheekbones, and the bloodless lips opened. Tom poured the contents of the vials into the nearly lifeless body, gently laid her head on the pillows. He took out a snow-white wand, and you could swear to Merlin that there was an inordinate amount of beauty, tension, and sex in the way it glided gently over her body. His cheekbones quivered from the heat, his teeth gritted, and he just raggedly exhaled. A few smooth movements, because dark magic is stronger than what they teach in Potions. Irene moaned softly, but still remained unconscious. The perfect moment to use Legilimency, but Tom hesitated. He looked at Irene, concentrating on what would be more proper and advantageous. No matter how his inner beasts tore at common sense from the inside, he still kept them on a chain, which was not so easy. Irene was too weak right now, what if it got worse and she didn't recover at all? No. That wasn't an option.

What to do tomorrow? Silence this situation? It won't work. Yes, and is it worth it? The lady in the portrait saw Mia creating this nightmare. The fact that Hogwarts might be shut down because of an unpleasant incident with another student didn't satisfy Riddle at all. It was better to be honest with Dippet about what had happened.

Everything that needed to be done was done, and Tom was on his way to the hospital wing to get everything ready for when he delivered Irene, but for a moment he froze at the door. He turned around cautiously. Somewhere inside there was an urge to stay here, like once in the orphanage when they had slept together in the same bed, under the same blanket. Stupidity! He grinned. But the smile on his pale face was painful and strained. Her sudden appearance, and everything that had happened, had made him feel irritated and nauseous. Turning back, he walked confidently to the bed and lay down gently beside Irene, covering her naked, wounded body with a white blanket. Five minutes, after all, it wasn't much. Just five minutes he would be here.

Tom allowed himself to run his fingers through her long black hair, he slowly touched the locks. A sense of irritation danced a tango on a knife edge paired with a corrosive sense of possessiveness. Clutching the curls in his fist, he took a deep breath of the intoxicating scent, along the path of memories to the filthy Muggle orphanage of 1938.