Chapter 7: Obstruction

"I almost lost my mind! Where have you been?!" Isabella was excited. She had the heebie-jeebies and paced the room, сasting a displeased glance at her daughter.

"Mom, it's okay, I just went for a walk."

"A walk? Are you serious?" Isabella grinned nervously. "If that strange girl were here, I'd think you'd run off to the cemetery to the family crypts again.... But she's not here, and we're not even in London!"

"Take it easy!" Daphne, sitting down at the table, unfolded the newspaper, which was full of terrible headlines.

"Please, understand me," Isabella breathed nervously. "I'm so worried! I don't want to lose you too..."

"Do you still think I could run to my father like Spencer?" Daphne gave her mother an indifferent look and began pouring tea. Isabella froze, remembering the horror of her recent experience. "I think they will create something amazing, like Nicolas Flamel. I heard that my father performed some kind of surgery to give my favorite brother eternal youth," Daphne's voice was filled with sarcasm and bitterness. "Except that magical society never recognizes squibs. No matter what he'd done."

Young Black tossed the newspaper onto the table. 'Anti-Muggle Reforms', 'Grindewald's Return to Germany,' 'Institute of Magic in Dortmund burned to the ground' - with each headline she became more and more convinced of the cruelty of the wizarding world, because her father had not chosen what kind of person he was born to be. The desire to know if she was on the family tree, or if her entire lineage, starting with her father, was destined to be simply burned out, echoed with an unpleasant tug somewhere in her chest.

"Mom, it's really okay." Daphne took a sip of green tea that reminded her of sly eyes. It had been so long since they'd seen each other! "I just went for a walk. I promise I'll let you know from now on."

​"At least until you're in Durmstrang. Your documents have been accepted, they are already waiting for you. You," Isabella bent down to Daphne's face, peering into the gray green eyes, "are a strong witch. You're talented, just like your father." Isabella smiled faintly and gently ran her fingers over her daughter's cheek. "We leave tomorrow."

​"All right, Mrs. Black!" Daphne smiled and grasped the small object in her dress pocket tightly. She had made a promise. And she would keep her word. ​

☽

"No," the thin voice pleaded, "you won't do that!"

"It's a mercy." The cold-blooded gaze of emerald eyes stabbed under the skin, under the bones ... deeper, to the very soul.

"Please…"

A huge fiery serpent soared into space. A side burned painfully. The stabbing torture forced to take a deep breath before jumping into space. Just without splits, please!

Irene inhaled sharply. A strangled wheeze burst out. She sat up, coughing loudly. There was not enough air. Looking around, she realized that there were several other beds nearby: some of them had students lying in them.

"Ah!" a woman's excited exclamation made Irene turn around. An unpleasant pain shot straight into the temple. "You've come round!"

A pleasant woman in a long dress and a white medical apron hurriedly walked towards Irene. Waking up in an unfamiliar place was always bad. Waking up from nightmares was twice as bad.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was hoarse, as if Irene hadn't left the White Wyvern pub for a week and kept herself topped up.

"You fell down the stairs," Madam Besnard bustled about, levitating some jars and vials of tinctures, "last night."

"It's been twenty-four hours?" Irene was genuinely surprised. She hadn't planned to lie down for twenty-four hours after flying down the stairs. Though frankly, that wasn't the priority, so she didn't care.

"Yes, you've had a few visits from friends," the healer said with a warm smile. Irene coldly wondered who could have called themselves her friend and come several times. Unless it was Katherine Grace.

The door to the hospital wing creaked loudly, and two young men appeared on the threshold. They were talking loudly to each other. Adrian Rosier poked Edmund Avery in the side, and he was silent at once, staring at the bed, where Irene was sitting, pale and disheveled, her face gaunt.

"You're awake!" Edmund said with joy as he strode toward the bed.

"At last!" Adrian sprang forward, hugging Irene and stroking her head gently.

"And we already thought that you would sleep until the NEWT!" Edmund didn't rush over to squeeze Irene, but came closer for the sake of friendship.

"I'll leave you to it," Madam Besnard smiled. "You can go afterward, but before you do, I'll explain what potions you need to take in the near future."

Irene nodded languidly, and the healer left.

"I'm so pleased that we've become good friends!" Irene was at it again -favorite pastime of sarcasm.

"Mia's been suspended from classes," Avery said coldly, knowing full well that there was no need to imitate cronies.

"Really!" Irene said ironically and grabbed her chest dramatically. "What a pity!"

"She won't be back until next year when you graduate from Hogwarts. She hasn't been expelled, but she won't be here for the rest of the year," Rosier said more warmly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked intently into Irene's face.

"I'm going to go now. I need to report," Edmund nodded to Rosier and walked away.

"Report what?" Irene stared at Adrian questioningly, and he hesitated for a moment.

"You look just like my aunt," he said, either to change the subject or to state a fact.

"What's her name?"

"Vinda Rosier."

The name sounded like a thunderclap.

Irene reflexively pressed herself into the pillows and looked fearfully at Adrian.

"The one?" In a whisper.

Rosier nodded silently.

"Of course, some people know we're related, but they prefer to pretend we're not. You'd better not tell anyone I was in France."

"I won't tell anyone!" Irene shook her head negatively.

Adrian silently gazed into her pale face, and then, a little more daring, carefully wound a black curl around his finger.

"Adrian..." she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Do you have something to do with...?"

"No," he assured sternly. "But their ideas are correct. You may think differently... But you must understand the value of blood purity. And we, the new generation, must not be inferior to them in power and importance."

Irene shook her head, agreeing with the words of a fellow student. It was better to show solidarity in silence. Adrian seemed to be a nice, cheerful guy, but just now he showed a different, unexpected side. No, the thought had flashed through Irene's mind the first time they'd met, when he'd kindly mentioned his last name. But there was no proof, and there were few other wizards in the world with that last name, were there? Not everyone should be close relatives with warm family dinners, even if there is some kind of kinship connection.

"Why did you come? You don't care about me," Irene asked cautiously, not sure which way to take their dialog.

"Because we were told to."

"By whom?" A phantom feeling of heaviness had chained her to the bed, and if Irene tried to get up right now, she wouldn't be able to.

"There were too many questions." Adrian stood up abruptly, and if it weren't for her dulled senses, Irene would have been shaking with fear in a second. "I'm glad you're back in action! Someone has to earn points!" He winked and left Irene alone with her thoughts and questions, which were now even more numerous.

What the healer was saying didn't stick in Irene's mind for a second. She only made some inarticulate sounds of agreement and hurriedly dressed. Soon she found herself in the Slytherin living room, where the coziness and comfort made her feel once again that this was her home. Everything here felt like her own.

Already on the threshold to the girls' room Irene heard Katherine sternly reprimanding the younger students - keeping strict discipline and order. A smile formed on her face at the sight of it.

"Katherine," Irene mumbled to her back.

Katherine turned around sharply. The surprise on her face was immediately replaced by unconcealed joy.

"Irene!" She threw herself into a hug. Irene was not so excited, and she looked more like a pillar. Barely able to control the flow of her emotions, Katherine turned to the students and sternly announced, "Now for dinner."

The girls, all as one, headed for the Great Hall, leaving Irene and Katherine alone.

"Well, what did I miss?" Irene relaxed on the bed, enjoying the pleasant dark green color of the canopy.

"Mia has been suspended for the rest of the year," Kathryn said with undisguised pleasure. Irene chuckled. "I'm certainly not happy that you got hurt.... But she deserved it!"

"Yeah."

"Can you believe what I found out? She's been following you! Trying to find something to get you expelled."

Irene was silent. What Katherine said made her sure that she had done the right thing and that the feeling of potential danger was not false at all.

"How did you find out?"

"It's... It's Tom," Katherine began to speak more quietly and, just in case, looked around. "He saw her push you down. And he... Irene, he's the one who brought you to the hospital wing. Bloody hell! Riddle carried you in his arms!" Katherine chuckled nervously. "I don't know what happened, but for him to do that... It's just amazing. I'm still just processing it all. He, of course, indifferently stated the fact of what had happened, but Merlin!"

"Fine," Irene replied indifferently.

The depressing mood and thoughts began to slowly drag into their own abyss. Irene was still staring at the canopy, and the desire to understand that damned Tom, and what it was that bound them together, became even stronger. No, he could have left her there, of course - even been glad to do so, most likely. But by Irene's reckoning, he'd valued his status as head boy and model student too much to do that. As she had assumed, he had done what he thought was 'right', which meant that even if he didn't want to, he had stepped onto the path that Irene wanted to lead him down.

"I'd completely forgotten! We're having Slug Club on Sunday! You're going too. And tomorrow we're going to Hogsmeade. Are you coming?"

The desire to hide under the blanket from everyone was very appealing, but absurd. Irene sighed as if she were forced to carry sacks of mandrake. There was no way out, on Sunday it would be as Katherine wanted, but there would definitely be urgent matters on Saturday.

☽

The cold wind howled an alarming whistle, whirling swirls of dry leaves in the feral garden where the hut stood. November inexorably heralded the winter chill with its unpleasant, prickly mood. The windows of the Shrieking Shack were boarded up. Apparently, no one had lived there for a long time. The shabby walls inside marred the already poor view. The floorboards creaked with every movement.

Malfoy slowly made his way to a large armchair and sat down, gracefully pulling the gloves off his hands. The cold tangled in his platinum long hair began to slowly melt away in the warming charms. But Abraxas's appearance was so frosty and arrogant that it seemed just a little bit more and the beautifully patterned snowflakes would reappear on his hair. Opposite, in another chair, Riddle sat, frowning, thoughtful and silent. Avery and Lestrange stood at the door, wands at the ready.

The floorboards creaked, the door shrieked nastily. Nott, Rosier, and Grace entered the room, pulling the frosty freshness with them. In the next instant, the two at the room's entrance cast silencing and protection charms. Finished, Avery looked at Riddle, waiting for further instructions. Riddle nodded silently, and the two young men put their wands away. There was silence in the room.

"It's good to see you here, friends," Tom said quietly, pausing. Lestrange turned pale. It seemed like there was a powder keg somewhere under the floor that was about to burst into fiendfyre. "...The strongest..." Tom fell silent, casting a thoughtful glance somewhere over Abraxas's shoulder. "And I have a question."

Avery swallowed hard. Riddle glared at the two students at the entrance.

"Why did the strongest in close duel get beaten by some little girl?" He said the phrase so sharply that Katherine sighed nervously, though Tom didn't even look in her direction.

"My Lord," Avery said. "We have, I believe, missed something very important..."

"That's right, Edmund. You've missed the quickness of reaction and the ability to use basic Expelliarmus," the corners of his lips curled into an unpleasant smile. Darkness seemed to engulf the entire space. Everyone in the Shrieking Shack froze in silent anticipation. "You certainly don't remember anything...'" Thank you for being kind enough to allow me to use Legilimency on the same day.... She's from Durmstrang."

"Durmstrang?" Katherine gasped, and Tom's hard gaze fell on her. "My Lord," Kathryn bowed her head, "she said three years at Koldovstoretz and two years at the Institute of Magic in Dortmund."

"She was lying," Riddle said coldly, and a faint danger flickered through him. He rose from his chair carelessly and strode confidently toward Katherine. When he stopped in front of her, he continued his speech quietly, "Katherine, you did well with the tracking spell. How much trust is there between you?"

"My Lord, I told her exactly what you told me to tell her... That I would report our dialog and that you would be informed. And about the last incident. I said you carried her in your arms to the hospital wing. But I don't think she trusts me."

"And rightly so," Riddle smiled, taking out a white yew wand. "Stay close to her. And find out where her ring is and how she got it."

He was about to turn around, but Katherine continued the conversation. She noticed Malfoy's tense, cold stare, but she didn't back down.

"My Lord, she is very strong. I can feel it. You know my abilities, I am never wrong. She would be perfect for our circle. I said from the beginning that none of the wizards here could handle her..." Riddle's eyes flashed scarlet. Katherine looked calm and subdued, except that for a moment it looked like she might have fainted. Merlin only knew that her hand in the pocket of her robes was digging its nails into her own palm. "... Except for you, of course. She must be one of us. She can never be taken by force, but only by-"

"Only by cunning," Riddle finished. "There's one thing, Katherine. She'll learn that quickly."

Tom turned and strode smoothly back to his chair. The room was once again silent.

"Is this an agent of the Ministry?" Rosier asked for the first time, voicing his musings aloud. "Was Dumbledore still believed to be complicit in Grindewald's affairs?"

"It's not clear yet," Riddle's answer was calm, but the atmosphere was not relaxed in the slightest. "How are things in France?"

"They were really in Germany," Adrian reported. "My aunt ... Vinda Rosier, she had gone to Dortmund, but had returned the same night. At the hospital, Irene was obviously frightened when I told her we were related. Perhaps she's not lying."

"Don't draw attention to yourself," Riddle said calmly, "we don't want any trouble. One careless move and Hogwarts could be shut down, so the subject of mudblood is on the back burner for now. As for our new girl... she needs special supervision, she could ruin the reputation of the house, and then none of us will graduate this year, which means that the realization of all strategic plans will be delayed for some time. At ease."

All the students in the room practically dropped a quiet 'My Lord' at once and with a nod of their heads, walked out of the Shrieking Shack. There were two left in the room. Malfoy's voice broke the silence, "My Lord, could she really have been sent to spy upon Dumbledore?"

"Get to the bottom of it, Abraxas. When you asked her to prove her blood purity... what did she do?"

"Cut her hand, my Lord." The unpleasant scenes from the library came back to mind. "It seemed maddening."

Tom nodded silently.

"She's fooling everyone. Even the old man believes her, not to mention how impressed you and Grace are with her," Riddle grinned. "But... We'll just have to wait and see. Maybe she did run away from Durmstrang, because these are dark times..."

Foreshadowing his greatness, Tom smiled faintly. There are so many accomplishments ahead! One day the Daily Prophet would have new headlines that would strike fear and dread into every wizard. The day would come and the entire magical world would shudder at the name Lord Voldemort.

"We could check her out through her Ministry connections, but if she's their agent, then we'll be the ones in trouble."

"No need, Abraxas. We'll take our time. You are free to go."

"My Lord," Malfoy bowed his head gracefully and rose from his chair, buttoning up his warm robe and strode to the exit.

Only one wizard remained in the room. The mask of strict indifference fell from his face. His eyebrows frowned, his gaze became blank, detached. Inside the handsome young man was solid blackness, invisible to not a single soul. The impulse and instinct of the predator poked somewhere in the region of his chest, as if with a blunt needle: the desire to catch up and tear, and then to absorb the warm blood and flesh of the victim, every time completely mastered the consciousness, when he smelled the scent of the triad tearing his gut apart.

"Stupid girl," Tom whispered into the emptiness of the room.

One thing was clear: the chess game started a long time ago. What would be the next move, and what would it entail?

☽

"Slug Club party," Katherine announced solemnly.

"Yes, I remember," Irene grumbled.

Katherine smiled again.

"Let's go together! There'll be Malfoy, Riddle, Avery, and-"

"Your whole retinue," Irene interrupted her. "Should I fear for my life?"

"Who do you think we are? We're just the best students and that's why we stick together!" Katherine said this with a genuinely hurt tone. "Pure blood is too valuable. And no one would ever think of harming you."

"I might have thought that with such views you were the henchmen of a... of a dark wizard." Irene hinted in all her glory at the most dangerous wizard, which made Katherine cringe.

"It's not like that. But! His views are correct."

Irene shrugged. She took a hard look at herself: a pale, short girl, desperately trying to get her hair into a tight bun, staring back at her from the mirror. The black, floor-length evening dress was a perfect fit.

"Oh, damn it!" Irene exhaled angrily. "Whatever!"

A thick mop of black curls spread over her bare shoulders. A deep breath was followed by more attempts to arrange her hair.

"Irene, we have to go," Katherine said.

Irene sighed, glancing down at her hair, then put on her long gloves that concealed her elbows. Leaving the bathroom, she shuffled into the girls' room. Katherine looked flawless: a light, delicate dress, expensive jewelry, neatly styled blonde hair.

"I told you this dress would suit you. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, that... From my aunt, she bought it in France." That was the truth. However, the rich red lipstick that Irene skillfully applied on her lips was also bought by her aunt.

"It's where the best students are. The Slug Club is an indicator of the elitism of the students. You should be proud to be a part of it. There are also two students from Ravenclaw, one from Gryffindor, and another girl from Hufflepuff. Mia was there too, by the way," Katherine chuckled. "Then that is right for her."

"Girls are in the minority again," Irene said ironically.

"The other houses are outnumbered. There are more Slytherins there than anyone else — this is also an important indicator. Let's go. We can't be late."

"Maybe it's because Slughorn was once a Slytherin himself."

"Because we're the most determined, and we tend to succeed more often than others." The clacking of heels echoed through the dungeon.

"It's going to take a while to get to the seventh floor," Irene sighed.

"We just got to the first floor and you're already disgruntled. Please!" Katherine stopped and took Irene's hands. Her dainty hands were clad in satin gloves, and on her left ring finger was a ring with a huge Grandidierite stone - a Malfoy-style gift, a very rare stone with an insanely beautiful color that echoed Katherine's eyes. Perfect for an engagement ring. "Come now. You're gonna love it."

Irene nodded silently, though she wasn't happy about the prospect of listening to two hours of meaningless chatter. The door to Professor Slughorn's office on the seventh floor finally came into view. Malfoy appeared at the other end of the corridor. The expensiveness of his costume could be seen from afar.

"Miss Grace!" Abraxas smiled warmly, taking Katherine's hand. "Miss Düster!" He nodded courteously, giving Irene a cursory glance and apparently approving of her outfit.

'First of all, there's going to be some sort of hurricane passing through the land tomorrow, because Malfoy himself smiled. And secondly, let him go to hell. I don't need anyone's approval!' Irene cursed mentally, glad that there were no Legilimency wizards here.

The pair strode confidently toward the entrance to the office, and she followed, marveling at how handsome the two looked. They didn't need to utter any words to show their superiority. Their whole look: their clothes, their appearance, their every gesture - everything spoke for itself. Abraxas gracefully opened the door, allowing the girls to step through.

The insanely pleasant smell of cinnamon buns and fruit punch hit the nose. There was no hint of a workroom. There was soft classical music and quiet speeches. Everyone looked dressed up. For a moment, Irene was confused. When she spotted the professor, she decided she should greet him. He was standing at the window surrounded by several students, including Avery and Rosier, some girl, and two other unfamiliar young men.

A high fever. Deep hoarse breaths. It felt like there was a corset around her waist, squeezing her lungs harder and harder. Irene jerked back, thinking that this was the perfect visit to the Slug Club! She'd had enough, she could faint, embarrassing not only herself but the entire Slytherin house as well, no matter what pose she found herself stretched out in the middle of the room.

Strong male hands grabbed fragile, pale shoulders. Blessing and curse. And how did she not immediately figure out what was wrong? After all, this literally burning look cannot be confused with anything.

"Miss Düster," the quiet voice made her feel even more suffocated. "I knew you were ready to fall at my feet. But so quickly and in public? I'm flattered."

"Only under the Imperius Curse," Irene croaked defiantly, realizing that she sounded more like an old beaten dog than a young lioness with a belligerent growl, "but even that isn't guaranteed to."

​Riddle took her arm possessively, smiling sweetly at the young man from Ravenclaw, who was standing at the table and pouring himself a punch. Irene jerked, wanting to move away from Tom, who was smelling like a suffocating plume of a heavy aura, which was ready to engulf her head and spit out the bones, gnawing the whole essence.

"You have no choice. Just smile and be nice," Tom was getting cocky and speaking in a commanding tone, through the nice smile and the friendly waving of his right hand to the left and right of everyone present. With his left hand he had a dead grip on Irene.

A few meters were covered, and now they were standing in front of the professor.

"Miss Duester!" Horace exclaimed. "How nice to see new faces! I have to admit, I'm pleasantly surprised that you've proved yourself so quickly."

"Ah, come on, Professor!" Irene laughed amicably. Suddenly, she had the high society manners, as if dinner parties and business meetings were part of her life. "It's just that you're a terrific teacher."

Slughorn smiled. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat or the punch. Soon all the students were seated at the huge table and began dinner. Abraxas, in his usual gentlemanly fashion, pulled out a chair for Katherine and then sat to her right. Riddle stopped there as well and gracefully pushed back the chair next to him, which apparently belonged to Irene. Accepting the will of the fates, she quietly sat down. The free seat to her right was taken by the guy who was pouring the punch, when she came. He had a pleasant appearance.

"Hi!" he smiled. "I'm Alex."

"Ravenclaw?" Irene asked stiffly.

Alex laughed.

"And you're a Slytherin, apparently. But I wanted to hear your name."

"Irene," she introduced herself condescendingly.

"Nice to meet you."

Soon dinner was served, and a series of conversations reigned at the table, in which Irene first took part for the sake of decency, and then she became really interested. Alex made her laugh twice! But the fun didn't last long. Her body was squeezed as if in a vise by an invisible force. Irene continued to be nice to Alex, giggling from time to time - in general, she tried her best not to show how bad she really felt.

"Well, how are you doing, Tom?" Professor Slughorn asked.

"Not bad at all."

Irene turned her head to the left, toward Tom, for the first time all evening. She had been so careful to ignore him and not react in any way to his next attack that she now realized how stupid that had been. Her neck was stiff from constantly pointing somewhere to the right, and now it throbbed with shooting pain. Irene clenched her teeth. Tom, meanwhile, looked calm and smiled sweetly. Such an exemplary boy.

'Son of a bitch,' the thought flashed through her mind.

All the falseness of his good-natured notes in his voice literally lodged a lump in Irene's throat. All of his negativity gathered in a thundercloud around her. The blackness that sat inside this Mr. Nice Guy was physically eating away at her body. Then there was that shooting pain in her neck. Merlin! Irene suddenly felt like she was about two hundred years old, for it felt like she was going to fall apart like a piece of junk.

"I beg your pardon," she gathered her last will into a fist and said, "I'm quite tired today, Professor. I'm really glad you've accepted me into your club. There are so many amazing students here under the guidance of the most wonderful teacher! However, I'm a little unwell, and I'll have to leave you."

"Ah, Miss Duester!" Horace rose from his chair. "Shall I see you off to the hospital wing? You do look pale!"

"Thank you, but I'll get there myself. Enjoy this fine evening." The beating of her heart echoed in the temples, an unpleasant nauseous feeling coming closer and closer to the throat. The prospect of leaving the dinner she had just eaten on this wonderful table seemed absolutely unacceptable. Alex jumped up from his seat to push back Irene's chair and held out his hand to her.

"I'll walk you out."

Irene wanted to nod negatively, but the stern voice behind prevented her from doing so.

"Get some rest, Alex!" Tom bared his teeth in a good-natured smile, from which a kilometer away breathed falsehood, invisible to any present here. "I am the Head Boy of Hogwarts, after all, and I am responsible for the students. I'll see Ms. Düster off and come back while you have fun."

Taking Irene by the arm like a bag by the handles, Tom strode towards the exit, setting his own pace. As soon as the door closed, Irene yanked her arm out, writhing in disgust at the feeling that he had seized her like some sort of thing.

"Piss off, Riddle!" There was no trace left of the aristocratic manners and high-minded words Irene had been parading all evening.

​Tom froze. Irene was ready to meet a look full of contempt and hatred, but he looked at her with such indifference that it became even worse. Oh, those mixed messages!

"I may be crazy, but I'm certainly not an idiot."

Tom arched an eyebrow questioningly, waiting to see what came next.

"I'll walk by myself."

"Well, go," he agreed calmly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest.

Irene confidently headed down the corridor, where the coveted stairs leading to the lower floors were. Just to get to the dungeon, just to endure this way. Heels clacking, head held high, and a proud look ahead.

"Suppose," Riddle said, "you reach the stairs. Then you fall again. You break something again. I'll have to follow you again, then I'll have to drag you back to the Hospital Wing again. And your ass is not like when you were eleven, you know, it's kind of heavy."

"You levitate," Irene shouted, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he was the one who had carried her to the hospital wing. Idiot! After all, she started this mess herself, because she wanted to kill two birds with one stone: to get rid of Mia, who'd started nosing about something, and to win Tom over by standing in the victim's position and causing pity and inevitable help from his side.

Measured footsteps sounded behind her, and Irene involuntarily froze at the very stairs. Strong hands came down on her shoulders, lightly and casually. Warmth spilled over her body from that very touch. Somewhere very close above her ear came a quiet voice, "​ You deprive me of this by avoiding a fall."

Her lower abdomen filled with sweet languor. Tom ran his hands slowly down her arms, lingering on the thin seams of her gloves. Barely perceptible touches along the edge of the thin fabric. He stood too close, behind her.

A deep breath. The achingly familiar scent of her hair evoked a sweet desire to embrace the one he'd spent all of six years thinking was missing, dead. He wanted to hug her to the bone-crunching, suffocating point – so hard that she would simply dissolve into him and become nothing.

"I'll walk on my own," Irene said coldly.

Hurried steps down the stairs. Away. Away from that guy! To the dungeon, to the girls' room, to her cozy bed, under the covers. Not to see or feel someone who could make her life, with her goals already mapped out, go to hell. Irene suddenly realized that this was some kind of madness, and she became insanely afraid. Scared at the mere thought that she would allow herself to respond, to show a true reaction when he was standing behind her, so close...

Got to switch. Got to dive headfirst into the cause she'd come here for. Can't wait any longer. It has to start here and now.

Irene shamelessly began to use dark magic, despite Dumbledore's warning. Behind the green curtain that hid her from the rest of the sleeping students, she skillfully used the disillusionment charm. With a little more effort, 'Irene' was sleeping soundly in bed.

She carefully left the room. In the living room sat the students with whom she had gone to Horace. Of course, they could afford to hang out after lights out as well. The Slytherins were quietly discussing something, sometimes laughing. Tom wasn't with them, which was probably why they seemed more relaxed.

Without touching the floor. Away.

Where to look?

The Transfiguration room. The door yielded easily to the simple Alohomora. But there was nothing in the study except textbooks and various class supplies. There was a small brick doorway in the right corner, the door to the professor's room. There were no protective charms, but it was still too risky to go in now.

Maybe... The room of requirement? Someone had mentioned it once... Up the stairs. Damn it! But where exactly? Sixth floor? Or was it the seventh? After all, she had never been there herself.

Wandering through the endless corridors of the magic castle, Irene came to the South Tower. The charms were slowly dissipating, and it would take time to use it a second time. Hiding in the Herbology classroom was not something she wanted to do at all. She sat down on the cold stone floor right by the window and gazed out at the Black Lake that glistened so invitingly in the gloom of night. It was mesmerizing. Soon it would be cold, its water would freeze, and everything around it would be covered with fluffy snow. Probably the only thing that gave some peace of mind was nature.

Taking a deep breath, Irene pushed her curls back and hugged her knees. And for some reason this was where she felt at home. Everything felt so familiar...

"Are you earning points for me to take them from you?"

Irene almost flinched at the voice behind her, but she controlled herself. Her sharp elbows still felt light touches of his fingertips… And it felt like thousands of little bolts of lightning were shooting through them.

All-in.

"I wanted to see you."

She behaved in the most unpredictable way, but received silence in return. It was only a few moments later that steady footsteps sounded toward Irene, who was sitting on the floor. She turned her head smoothly, still not ready to see Tom. Black boots and black pants. Slowly she lifted her head up, and even in the darkness it was clear that Tom was looking at her.

"How did you know it was me?"

Tom remained silent. What would he tell her? That he knew her scent by heart and could hear the slightest hint of it? He leaned against the wall and said quietly, "You're breaking the rules. This is the third time. Covering you is not profitable for me. I'm really starting to question the decision to expel Mia. You're lucky it's me and not Mr. Pringle who keeps bumping into you. I admit, I'd love to see you chained to an iron chair."

Irene chuckled.

"Oh, come on! I saved your ass from a clingy girl, Riddle! Or do you enjoy having a girl chasing after you? You have some issues, and this is your way of asserting yourself?" ​

"Shut up, Düster. You're acting like a—" there was a touch of displeasure in Tom's tired voice.

"Like what?" Irene was still laughing. "Merlin. Sometimes I think you're threatening. I wonder what you'll do? Use the Lapifors? I'll be a nice fluffy rabbit."

While Irene was sarcastic and bursting into ringing laughter, Tom was unshakable. He shook his head faintly and then said phlegmatically, "What do you accomplish by your constant provocations? Your hysterical nature is wildly irritating. Do you know how to be calm?"

"I thought..." Irene stopped laughing. "There are two options: You either hate me or you like me a lot, Tom."

"I could say the same thing about you, Düster." He stepped closer and gave her a hand to help up off the floor. "Five points from Slytherin. And earn another ten."

Irene clucked her tongue unhappily, and Tom was still staring at her the same way. In the faint glow of the moonlit night, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, just like hers. It was obvious he was very tired.

"A truce?" Irene asked cautiously, hoping that Tom would be more compliant in his condition.

"I wasn't fighting with you," he replied indifferently. "And yes. Don't take me for an idiot. I remember everything perfectly well." His voice suddenly changed a bit, and there was something unpleasant, repulsive in it. He said, "What you were like at Wool's orphanage... How you almost burned it to the ground..."

"I..." Irene was confused. Vague echoes of the night's commotion came to mind, the smell of burning.

"It was amazing how the Dortmund Institute of Magic had been subjected to a nightmarish arson attack." Tom stepped close and brazenly took Irene by the chin, thus forcing her to look at himself. "Where you went to school."

Irene frowned. No, he was not at all compliant. Probably even lying in a coffin he would have shown an obscene hand gesture, giving her the middle finger in the direction of the woods, where she could find a magic fern.

The problem with lack of memories was growing exponentially: he knew bad things about her, she knew absolutely nothing about him. It's impossible to set him up, he's not a stupid Gryffindor, he's smart, it's worth admitting that. He's not just a nerd who memorizes textbooks from cover to cover, knowing the answer to every question, he's also very perceptive, has marvelous logic, and is terribly cunning. To confront him openly in a duel is possible, but it is so stupid and inappropriate that how could it even come to mind?

"Tell me..." Pale fingers clutched at his jacket. "Tell me, Tom, what happened at the orphanage? I don't remember anything."

It was Tom's turn to scoff, and he burst into an unpleasant laughter that sent shivers down her spine. He took a step back.

"It's obvious," Irene said. "It's not profitable for you."

"There's nothing wrong with logic, miss... Düster," Tom smiled. "Just one question: you can speak to snakes... Where did this gift come from?"

"You're not deducting points. I'll answer." And even that he remembered! And she remembered absolutely nothing about him. At least something had to be done to turn the situation to her advantage. Riddle nodded silently. "I was taught by my mother. I don't know much Parseltongue."

"How did your mother know it?"

"She studied it at the Institute of Magic. That's Hogwarts, where everyone's holding the baby. At Koldovstoretz! If you'd only seen the classes there! There's nothing against studying the Dark Arts, on the contrary, it's even supported by the Magical Government. The situation is the same in Germany and Austria."

"And Durmstrang," Riddle said coldly, his gaze fixed on the pale face barely visible in the gloom, anticipating a reaction.

"I suppose so." Irene shrugged indifferently. Merlin's beard! She had definitely erased Avery and Lestrange's memory, which meant Tom was bluffing now and watching her reaction carefully. "I have to go."

Riddle didn't say another word and headed quietly to his room. Irene hurried down the corridor toward the stairs, overtaking him. She felt a heavy stare at her back that could have made her choke.

But there was an even nastier aftertaste of doubt: did Tom know something, or was he just stating the fact that Durmstrang was famous for its reputation? Given recent events, it was no secret. One thing was obvious: she needed to be more careful... This man was a problem. And it was a problem that needs to be dealt with.