The recollection of your fleeting intimate moments swarmed you, a ceaseless loop that played out in the theater of your mind--like an unresolved holodrama with seemingly no fucking end.

His imprint stained every fragment of your life; in the solitude of the shower, mental echoes followed the course of water, little rivers reminding you of the ones tracing intricate paths down his sculpted physique. Within the shared space of the common room, the mental tableau featured his fingers engaging in an intimate ballet, leaving the taste of his lips lingering in your mouth as they ever-so-dominantly stifled your lusty sounds.

And somehow, that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh, not even close. It was during the nocturnal realm that the memories unfolded their cruelest chapters.

In the shroud of night, it transcended beyond the mere visual replay of his figure dominating yours, or the sensory exploration of his hands traversing the curves of your body. It wasn't just the recollection of his teeth sinking into your neck that lingered. No, the intricacies of your mind wove a far, far more nuanced tapestry.

Nighttime summoned forth the vivid recollection of the encompassing warmth emanating from his broad chest, the haven discovered within the embrace of his strong arms, and the fragrant allure of his messy hair, intertwining with the visceral memories of each intimate encounter. His burning gaze that had seared into your consciousness was more than a mere look; it was an indelible mark, haunting the very core of your thoughts with the echoes of shared passion.

These were the nocturnal specters that besieged you behind closed lids, engaging in an unwelcome dance as you wrestled with the elusive embrace of sleep. These very memories, like a relentless blacksmith, stoked the inferno within, leaving behind the most acrid, bitter residue on your tongue--a taste of anguish and betrayal.

The haunting question echoed through the corridors of your thoughts: why had he subjected you to this intimate claiming, an emotional prison woven with shared intensity, only to abruptly extinguish it with the cold finality of three, sad little words.

"We are done."

And thus, even after the amount of passing time, all it took was a single sideways glance exchanged between Pansy and Draco during their spirited debate over impending assignments to inspire the catalyst for your abrupt departure. With a forceful clatter, you slammed down your fork and pushed up from the table, commencing a determined march into the unknown.

Their speculative gazes undoubtedly trailed your abrupt exit, but you paid no heed. The entire school was privy to the fact that you and Mattheo were done, seemingly officially this time--terminated by a colossal spat prior to one of his ludicrous nighttime escapades in the forbidden forest. Mattheo's hospitalization, a testament to the recklessness that marked him and his band of fools, left him nursing scratches, cuts, bruises, and a sizable gash on his lower abdomen.

Pansy's calls faded into the periphery as you strode away, your indifference resonating louder than any response could convey. The world around you blurred into inconsequential background noise, drowned out by the burgeoning tangle of spite that commandeered your thoughts. Initially relegated to the forefront, this resentment had now metastasized, occupying every crevice of your headspace.

The recollection of his outburst haunted you, a violent reaction triggered by your attempt to dissuade him from venturing into the forbidden forest. Advising caution, you found yourself confronted with accusations of control and a stifling of his fucking freedom. Hurtful words cascaded from his lips during that argument, culminating before he recklessly endangered himself in the perilous forest. All the moments of vulnerability you shared with him, surrendering yourself without reservation, only to be met with his callousness when you were simply trying to safeguard him.

And as the embers of revenge blazed within, so did the deafening roar for closure. The need to settle the score and the yearning for resolution thrived in the wake of an emotional maelstrom.

‘We are done’ felt insufficient—it couldn't conclude there. You wouldn't fucking allow it.

Approaching the hospital wing doors, a surprising fortitude replaced any expectation of your confidence wilting under the imposing pressure. Strangely, a heightened anger welled within you, as though Mattheo Riddle were the sun, each step forward intensifying the scorching heat enveloping you. With a decisive gesture, you flung the door open, your breath held in suspense as your eyes canvassed the beds. Yet, he remained conspicuously absent, amplifying the frenetic flutter in your heart into an unrestrained whirlwind.

"Miss? May I help you with something?"

You pivoted sharply, eyes ablaze, as if embers sparked from your gaze. "Mr. Riddle. Mattheo. Where is he?"

The nurse swallowed, brows furrowed in confusion, but she cautiously gestured toward the hall, taking a step forward. "We moved him into a private room yesterday. His father requested it. Third door to the left."

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you turned away,  a silent commentary on the absurdity before you. Suppressing the impulse to scoff required a fucking Herculean effort--of course, his father would demand a private room for him. The bloody entitlement was as predictable as Mattheo's suffocating arrogance.

As your determined march neared its end, you found yourself standing before the designated door, caught in a tumult of fear and fury. Fingers trembled, folding in waves in a futile attempt to expel the excess energy coursing through your veins. This ritual had proved futile throughout the previous week, and it yielded no different results now. A frustrated exhale escaped through your nose as you charged through the doorway, propelled by a relentless surge of emotion.

Mattheo Riddle's vulnerability exceeded all expectations as he lay in his opulent private chamber. Shirtless, his body displayed a cruel artwork of black and blue hues, stretching beyond the healing gash on his abdomen. A chaotic tapestry of scratches adorned his shoulders, arms, neck, and the once flawless canvas of his face, now disrupted by a thin, blistering line over the bridge of his nose. A swallow lodged in your throat as you beheld him, a striking portrait of agony that rendered him almost unrecognizable.

"Why the hell are you here?" He stared at you, expression vacant. "Can't you comprehend simple instructions?"

With a cool, unwavering gaze, you shot back, "And miss the chance to witness your glorious downfall? Not a fucking chance, Riddle."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he adjusted against the sheets. "You're insufferable."

You sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Advancing, you scrutinized his form, taking in the mosaic of fresh scars that adorned his skin. Arriving at the bedside, your gaze drifted downward, noting that beneath his waist, he was clad only in boxers. A scant, white sheet was the sole guardian of whatever remained of his dignity.

Mattheo's snarl reverberated in the room. "If you're here to extend your fucking pity, please, spare me."

A sharp retort escaped your lips, your eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I'm not offering pity...though you do present quite the pitiable fucking sight, I'll give you that."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Mattheo's voice carried an edge, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “I told you, we are done.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as you let his question linger, a mental reel replaying the relentless week of torment he had unleashed upon you. Your gaze lingered on his tousled chocolate curls and once-enticing plush lips, forcing yourself to traverse the memories of months marked by a tumultuous dance between pain and pleasure. The realization hit like a sledgehammer--all those moments, the highs and lows, seemed to have led to an abyss of pure fucking nothingness.

A furrow etched your brow as you looked down at him. "It's unbelievable that I let myself get ensnared into feeling something for you."

"Your feelings were your own choice," he quipped, his head falling back with an air of indifference, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't blame me for your poor judgment."

Your frown etched deeper lines on your face, the surge of anger unmistakable. "Regardless, you still manipulated me like a fucking puppet."

"Amusing how complaints disappeared when you were screaming for more every damn night," he retorted, lids fluttering with evident irritation. "Your anger's just a cover for the fact that you'll have to find a new playmate now...have fun chasing those highs, princess, but I promise you'll only end up disappointed."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, gaze narrowing into a potent mix of anger and hurt. "You're a real fucking prick, you know that?"

Mattheo regarded you with eyes that seemed to hold nothing but emptiness. His silent response coaxed your hands to curl into tight fists, and your chin to tremble with the pressure of boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to treat you like a mere specter, to act as if you were invisible, as if you were nothing--something you knew you had never been. And still weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, your voice shaking with a blend of frustration and desperation.

He remained silent, his gaze an unyielding anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions. The void in his pupils became increasingly maddening, an inscrutable abyss that left you grappling with the uncertainty of what the fuck he was even thinking right now.

"Answer me, Riddle." Your demand sliced through the air, a fervent plea for any sign of acknowledgment.

But he remained stubbornly mute.

Your chest surged with frustration, the world momentarily blurring in your escalating anger. "Say something, damn it!"

It was only when the sting of his skin met the back of your hand, and red streaks of blood marked your knuckles, that you realized you had slapped him, reopening the scab on his cheek. Yet, that wasn't the shocking part--though it certainly played a role--what truly stunned you was the quiet, wanton moan that escaped Mattheo's lips, his lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

And then, a peculiar, wicked force stirred within, a voracious entity feeding on the months of torment he had subjected you to. Something that hungered for more.

So, succumbing to its dark allure, you withdrew your hand and unleashed another sharp, resounding slap across his cheek. Blood painted his face, and Mattheo groaned, fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips thrust into the air, his arousal blatantly revealed beneath the fabric. Spellbound, you observed as he collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, holding a gaze that teetered between vulnerability and desperation.

Between the conflicted expression in his eyes and the pulsating bulge between his legs, the sinister impulse within you deepened, intertwining with a more primal sensation. One unmistakably identified as pure, unbridled lust.

"You fucking like that, don't you?" You breathed, your lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

"Are you trying to hurt me, princess?" Mattheo's intense gaze focused on you, alternating between his increasing arousal and your exasperated expressions. "You'll have to put in more fucking effort than that..."

"Hm." You hummed, grin widening. "If you insist."

You locked on to Mattheo's gaze, feeling empowered by the way his normally stoic expression was now clouded with a burning need. With a coy smile, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, letting your skirt ride up around your hips and exposing your panties. His brown eyes lingered between your legs, and you could feel the heat of his gaze against your skin as you climbed over him, straddling his strong thighs. He tensed as his eager cock twitched beneath you, silently begging for more.

The power dynamic between you had shifted so drastically in this moment. Mattheo Riddle, famed for his cunning and ruthlessness, was now completely at your fucking mercy. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that you had the power to make him feel truly vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you dipped your hips just enough to skim the head of his cock. The sight of his full-body convulsion was mesmerizing, and the shaky breath that left his lips told you everything you needed to know.

You could tell he was still in pain, but there was something else there too--desperation.

"Poor boy," you murmured, running your fingers down the curves of your own figure, taking pleasure in the sensation of your own heat as you slipped your hand between your thighs, caressing yourself. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Mattheo's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a low groan. It was clear he was entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, and the way your words dripped with sinful seduction only added to his lust.

"Yes," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "This is what I want."

"Look at you...so fucking needy..." you clucked your tongue and chuckled, extending out your free hand and running it along the wounded flesh of his chest, digging in with a little more force than you'd intended, judging by the groan that left his lips and the blood that split through the scab. "You're such a pathetic mess, Matty...it's almost too easy to control you like this..."

"Go to hell." His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple as he recognized the truth in your words. "You don't control fuck all."

"Oh, is that right?" you snarled, leaning forward and pushing your hands into his stomach, pressing down on his wound with added force, now. His face twisted in pain, and he let out a strained grunt. "How about now?"

Your heart was thundering with adrenaline, and while you had undoubtedly expected him to be furious at you for causing him harm, as he met your gaze, you saw something else entirely. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a yearning for more of the pain and pleasure that only you could provide. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to contain the sensations coursing through him. Despite the pain, there was a sense of longing that tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a powerful desire for more of this intoxicating mixture.

"More," he whispered, his voice low and husky with need, barely above a breath. "Do it again."

"Oh, I don't fucking think so..." you sneered, your cunt clenching involuntarily at his request. But you were determined to make this man suffer. To humiliate him just as bad as he'd humiliated you, time and time again. "If you want something, you’ll have to ask for it nicely…I want to hear you beg for me."

Mattheo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he attempted to move you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I don't recall extending an invitation for your touch," you asserted, a glacial edge to your voice. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've fucking done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already entirely fucking anxious to get inside of you. But then, he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours as he waited for your prompt.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

Your hips moved sinuously against his, a deliberate motion that left him breathless, his fists tensing against the desire to seize hold of your flesh. The surge of power was intoxicating, a heady blend with the fervor of your overwhelming desire and simmering rage. More than ever, your yearning for him to suffer consumed you. With a wicked grin, you lifted your hand to your lips, sensually running your tongue along the length of your crimson-stained fingers, sucking off the remnants of his blood. The sharp note of copper lit up your palate, sending a delightful shiver through your being.

"Mmm...you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, his taste coating your mouth. "Wanna try?"

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze tracing the movement of your tongue as he moistened his lower lip. You enveloped one of your fingers with your lips, emitting a soft hum as you sensually cleaned it, gliding it in and out with deliberate slowness. Finally, you withdrew it with a wet pop, eyes rolling in dramatic effect.

Mattheo's jaw constricted, the sinews in his forearms taut from the tension in his fists. "Please..."

But you, unfazed, dipped your fingers back into the trail of blood leaking from his gash, adorning your skin with a bold red hue before returning them to your mouth.

"Mm, not good enough, I’m afraid..." you murmured, eyes twinkling with sadistic satisfaction. "You'll have to do much better than that, big boy..."

A growl echoed in Mattheo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust up against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he pulled back, averting his gaze.

"These hands of yours are growing quite fucking insolent," you observed with a sly smile. "It's high time we addressed their rude misbehaviour."

A sinister grin etched across your lips as you shifted, smoothly extracting your wand from its thigh strap. With a deft flick, you summoned restraints, securing Mattheo's wrists to the metal headboard. His lips parted, eyes smouldering with desire, pulsating beneath you as the tightness closed around his wrists. Once finished, another few flicks ensured the door was locked, and the room was cloaked in a silencing charm.

"Much better," you said, tossing your wand aside. The gleam in your eye was almost maniacal as you reveled in the exquisite agony you were causing him, feeling a sense of power and control that you had never experienced before. "How's that feel, hm? Ready to utter those pleas for me, Riddle?"

"You're going to regret this, little witch..."  he spat out through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto yours. "Nothing you could do to me is worse than the fate that awaits you when I get out of here…your days are fucking numbered."

Involuntarily, you clenched at his threat, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood emanating from his wound--and with a decisive move, you seized his jaw with your free hand, thrusting your bloodied fingers past his teeth before he could voice a protest.

"Now isn't the time for your futile threats, Mattheo," you husked, tilting your head. Your fingers pushed forcefully into his throat, emphasizing your point. "Look how fucking pathetic you are...if only your friends could see you now...big tough guy, bound and gagged by his own bitch…it’s beautiful, really."

Abruptly, you withdrew your fingers, leaning back to assess your handiwork. His wrists were securely bound, a vivid red imprint gracing his skin, while his mouth shimmered with the subtle traces of his own blood. It was a tableau of perfection--humiliating yet exquisitely so. The image of him squirming against the taut restraints, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, compelled your hand between your legs. Sliding up your skirt, you explored through the delicate lace of your panties, skimming eagerly over your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, glimpsing his mouth, “you look perfect like this."

This was retribution, and as you teased yourself while admiring the pathetic sight of him, thoughts buzzed with the torment he'd inflicted--the scalding intensity of his erratic behavior, the icy indifference he wielded, treating you with disdain, unfounded accusations of infidelity, and the frigid distance he maintained. The searing resentment flared as you recollected the havoc he'd wreaked upon your life.

It was months of emotional manipulation. A pattern that was impossible to acclimate to. His cycle of hot and cold, the relentless mistreatment, the baseless accusations, and the moments of aloofness, all preceding his inevitable return, pleading for your affection--this was the culmination of his deeds. More than anything, this was the reckoning he deserved.

"Come on, princess..." he muttered, eyes wide and pleading. "For Godrics sake, please...fucking please..."

A grin creeped across your lips, your heart leaping with excitement. You'd finally fucking broke him.

"There we go, Matty...that wasn't so hard, was it?" You purred, inching backwards along the length of his thighs, reaching out to pull the cover from his waist in an excruciatingly slow fashion, exposing his black briefs. "I love hearing you beg for me...you're being such a good boy..."

Mattheo's response came in the form of an exaggerated huff, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently pleading for your touch to alleviate the burning desire between his legs. Your grin expanded, reveling in the palpable tension.

"You want me to fuck you, Matty? Do you think you fucking deserve that?" You cooed as you caressed his erection through the fabric, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your fist, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your ministrations. "Do you think you fucking deserve me?"

His groan reverberated, his body twitching beneath the firm clasp of your fingers. His lids fluttered, and his head arched back in a nearly imperceptible shake of denial.

"You never fucking deserved me, did you?" Your frustration at his silence echoed in the air as you delivered a sharp crack across his face, prompting a gasp from him. "Fucking answer me, Mattheo!"

"No!" he finally hissed, his knuckles whitening as his entire frame tensed. "Fuck! No! I didn’t…”

"That's right, you didn't…” you laughed, shaking your head. The sinful delight coursing through you at his torment was undeniable. "At least you can finally fucking admit it...a tiny step towards what might pass as progress, I suppose."

As Mattheo huffed, not daring to meet your eyes, you sighed, finally feeling as though some of your anger had dissipated. Not by much, but by enough. Granting him the smallest percentage of mercy, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, freeing his needy, throbbing cock--the length of his smooth heat springing back and slapping against his belly, a low groan leaving the depths of his throat as it did.

You clenched at the sight, the pool of heat in your abdomen expanding throughout your entire body now, your mouth practically watering at the mere vision of him. Just when you thought this whole thing couldn't get anymore perfect. Gods, he was undeniably fucking delicious.

"Tell me what you want, Mattheo..." you said, wrapping your fingers around his cock, slicking the bead of precum around the head, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "Tell me what you need."

His eyelids pressed together in bliss as he panted, the rhythmic movement of his throat visible with each swallow. In the throes of pleasure, he surrendered himself to the intensity of your touch, the heat enveloping him in a cocoon of sensation.

"You..." was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. "Please-fuck-"

"You like that?" you purred, biting your lip. "You like when I jerk your cock like this? Hm?"

Mattheo's jaw was slack with desire, his voice laced with breathy need, "yes..."

"Yeah?" You purred, tightening your grip, increasing your pace as you stroked him, leaning down slightly to spit on the tip, slicking your saliva along his shaft. "Who else could make you beg, huh? Who the fuck else can make you this fucking hard?"

"Fuck-" he choked, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, you could tell he was close. "No one-princess-fucking no one..."

"Mhm...that's fucking right, Riddle..." smiling, you threw your head back, your other hand resuming its motion on your clit, teasing yourself as you continued stroking him. "You know you can't fucking live without this...I don't know why you have to make things so goddamn complicated..."

"Fuck," he hissed, sputtering your name, "please, fuck me, please. I fucking need you."

"Shit...you're just spoiling me now," you mewled, your pussy clenching undoubtedly at his words. "Such a good boy...so eager to please me, hm?"

Mattheo released a long, exasperated sigh as you released him, shifting yourself closer. With a swift motion, you shimmied your panties to the side before you aligned his cock with your dripping core--the moan that escaped your throat was deep and lengthy as you sank onto him, feeling every inch of his hard, aching cock stretching you wide, filling you up with ease. Mattheo's body lifted from the bed in response, a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream escaping his chest as you enveloped him to the hilt. Leaning forward, you placed your palms on his stomach, shifting your weight to the heels of your hands as you began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Fuck," you breathed, lids fluttering. "I missed this cock...shit, you feel so good..."

Mattheo's only response was a string of shameless, guttural moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he surrendered to the potent mix of pleasure and pain. His body writhed beneath yours, his abdominals tightening in response to your movements. You panted heavily, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking pleasure in every inch of him slamming deep into your wet, eager pussy.

With each movement, you drove Mattheo wild with desire, listening to his moans grow louder and more intense with each passing moment.

Having control was entirely different--you were able to drag him into you, squeeze him tight with your walls while you slowed your pace, slam down onto him and make him howl. You watched him struggle below you, realizing he was trapped at his peak--and you were happy about it. This. This was close to what he deserved.

"I fucking hate you," you growled, the depth of your emotion evident in every word. "You embedded yourself into every part of my life and now you want to just fucking end things? Just go back to being fucking strangers? Over nothing?" Your voice cracked, the words flowing from your lips without restraint as you continued to ride him, hips moving in an untamed rhythm. "Why do you always fucking do this to me? Fuck-why?..."

Between his deep groans, his shuddering gasps as his wrists fighting their resistance, he managed to shake his head, his noises only growing louder the harder your rode him.

"I...I'm..." the words were forced through barred teeth, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm fucking sorry."

"Are you mine, Mattheo?" Your voice was strained with exertion, sweat growing on your forehead. "Were you ever fucking mine? Or was it all just a big game to you?"

"No,” he stammered, almost wincing. "No!"

Unable to resist the intense sensations coursing through you any longer, you brought your fingers back to your clit, setting a frenzied pace as you massaged the stiff nub with the pads of your fingers. You could feel Mattheo pulsing inside you, could feel his overly urgent need to cum, but right now, all that mattered was your own pleasure. As you worked yourself toward climax, your breaths grew ragged, soft moans escaping your lips as your body responded to your own touch. The pressure inside of you was building with each passing moment, urgent and insistent, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"Say it," you panted, eyes rolling and body trembling as you slammed down on him again and again. "Tell me who you fucking belong to."

"Fuck-fuck..." he grunted, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please, princess...you keep squeezing me like that and I'm going to fucking cum-"

"If you want to cum, you'll fucking say it, Mattheo-" you practically moaned, entire body quivering with excitement. "Fuck-say it..."

A string of whimpers slipped past Mattheo's lips, his fists balled so tight it looked almost painful. "Fuck--you! I'm yours, fuck..."

Every word leaving you was a curse, and between every word was a strangled moan, resonating through your throat as you worked your clit fasting, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

"Gods, Matty, I'm going to cum," you moaned. "I'm going to cum on this thick fucking cock-fuck..."

Without being able to hold off any longer, you shattered, your hips jerking and twitching in an erratic rhythm, free hand digging into the flesh of his chest as you clenched and pulsed around him, forcing another onslaught of pleasured whimpers to leave his throat before he too reached his high--the tight heat of your orgasm sending him over the edge, twitching and thrashing beneath you as you continued riding him through your collective highs, not beginning to slow until the aftershocks began to rumble through you.

And after you stalled, you allowed yourself a moment to regain composure before you wearily eased yourself off him, releasing a prolonged breath--with a cautious movement, you reached over and gathered a sampling of your intertwined cum on the pads of your fingers, briskly bringing them up to his lips.

"Taste what I did to you," you murmured with a smirk, relishing in his groan against your flesh. Methodically, you glided your fingers against his bottom teeth, leisurely pulling them from his mouth. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

His breaths lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of his silence, his eyes seemingly unable to leave your form. With deliberate movements, you leaned over, deftly undoing the restraints that bound him. As you meticulously adjusted your appearance back to its usual state, a mask of calm control, your gaze shifted towards the door, a calculated glance.

‘We were, fortunately, able to find some hosts that fit your, unique, abilities.’

Tom huffed, glaring down at the letter-folding it back up and sliding it into the envelope it had come in. Hosts that fit his unique abilities, eh? That either meant a wizarding family, or a family that knew of magic. The rest of the letter had just informed him of what to do after returning from his 'private' school-as that was what Mrs. Cole was told when Tom had first left the orphanage 5 years ago now-and had provided train tickets within the letter.

If he said he was looking forward to this; he would be telling a half-truth. Because yes, he would be free of the orphanage for a whole summer-maybe even the summer after that-but he would also be in a place that wasn’t Hogwarts-a stranger's home, possibly with some random kids who had also been evacuated from London.

Tom set aside the letter-going back to his breakfast as his ‘friends’ all chattered away, not caring for the world around them. Tom glanced to his side, raising his brow a bit when he saw (y/n) Prothero looking at him, a letter in her hands, she blinked at him and then folded her letter-looking away as she returned her gaze to her friend across from her-who was speaking very…wildly.

Prothero was in his year, and his house-muggleborn-he hadn’t interacted with her much-maybe once or twice within the last 5 years, usually if they were partnered together for an assignment.

He had heard many call her weird-which Tom thought was odd, since-they were all wizards and witches, they were weird by that alone. The weirdest thing Tom had ever seen her do was pick up a rat snake and carry it away from a screeching horde of first-years who were terrified of the thing.

Then again, Tom didn’t interact with Prothero much-so he supposed that was why he hadn’t seen how weird she was.

Tom’s mind was back in the present with the sound of the bell, and everyone rushed to grab their things and head to class-Tom taking his time and strolling down the halls to his first class-wondering what the summer would be like now that he wouldn’t be in London for the first time in 15 years.

-

Tom stepped off the Hogwarts Express, nodding goodbye to his ‘friends’ as they all went off to their parents, heading to their mansions for the summer. How lucky for them. Tom looked down at his train tickets, making his way to the platform and ticket booth as described on the tickets. “Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Tom said as he handed over the tickets, the woman on the other side of the booth examined them and then handed them back-along with a slip of paper connected to a safety pin.

“Wear that at all times sweetheart, until you arrive at your destination, it will allow the marshals to identify you and get you where you need to go.” Tom nodded, politely thanking the muggle woman and pinning the paper to his jacket-one of the marshals examining it as he passed by-his Hogwarts trunk being taken by a station worker as many many other children joined him-saying goodbye to their parents, some sobbing and some attempting to cheer their families up-saying they would see each other again soon.

Tom spotted a familiar face amongst the crowd-Prothero, handing over her trunk and larger belongings before climbing into the train-not wearing a slip like Tom and many other children were. Tom just hummed, curious but not curious enough to ask her where she was going. Tom eventually climbed onto the train-passing by other children hanging out the windows-saying goodbye to their parents.

The train began to move-and Tom quickly found an empty car to sit in. he slid his bag into the overhead bin and sat down-opening his potions book and began to read-ignoring those who passed by his car as the train pulled out of the station-all the children still saying goodbye to their families as they were sent off the countryside.

Tom eventually looked up, surprised to see Prothero standing at the door-looking just as surprised to see him. She blinked, and then glanced at the seat across from him. Tom just looked back at his book and Prothero took that as a ‘whatever’ and sat down-closing the car door and sitting next to it, separating the two by a few feet.

They didn’t speak for nearly the entire ride-but they would both look out the window at each stop along the way, watching as children were picked up by their host families as they rode deeper into the countryside.

Finally, as night began to fall, Tom looked up, closing his book(the 3rd he had read so far on the trip) and glanced at Prothero, who was drawing. “you’re not wearing a slip,” Tom said, his voice slightly raspy from hours of not being used. Prothero looked up at him, and nodded.

“I live out here,” was all she said and that was good enough for Tom, who stood and slid his book back into his bag-grabbing another one to read. At that moment, his stomach growled and he huffed, sitting back down and pressing his hand to his gut. “Are you hungry at all, Riddle?”

Tom snapped his head up, looking at Prothero, who was digging through her bag-the jingle of coins catching Tom’s attention. “I don’t need your charity,” Tom muttered and Prothero frowned, glancing back at him.

“I was just being nice,” She muttered, standing and flipping a few coins between her fingers. “but if you don’t want anything,” With that, she stepped out of the car, most likely going down to the club car to get food.

Tom ignored the hunger he felt, he had far gotten used to doing so anyway. Especially during summer. But when Prothero returned, she tossed a wrapped sandwich over to Tom, who flinched as it landed next to his thigh. He narrowed his eyes at Prothero, who ignored him, opening her sandwich and taking a bite-only looking back when Tom continued to glare.

“It’s just a peanut butter sandwich, I bought jelly if you wanna add it,” Prothero muttered, holding up a few small rations of jelly, strawberry and grape. Tom just blinked and then stood, taking the grape jelly and going back to his seat-muttering a small thank you as he did. “you’re welcome,” Prothero said back, once again ignoring him as they ate in silence.

It was dead into the night when the train arrived at the station Tom was to get off. So he grabbed his bag and got off the train, waiting for his luggage as a station worker went to grab it. he looked behind him as he felt a presence, seeing Prothero once again, also waiting for her luggage.

“A coincidence our destination ended up the same,” Tom said politely, turning back to the train, watching as his luggage was rolled over to him-Prothero’s luggage not far behind. “Yep,” was all Prothero said, glancing over her shoulder. Tom felt as if she knew something, but before he could ask about it-two figures came up to the platform.

“Ah-there you are! Tom Riddle, I assume?” the older woman called, her hair pulled back into a bun, holding a slip of paper. Tom nodded. “Have you all your things?” the woman asked Tom and he nodded again, all he really had was his luggage and bag, he didn’t have many personal items. “very well, I’m Brenda Prothero, and that is my husband, John,” Tom looked around-seeing a man dressed comfortably, with kind eyes and a goatee, hugging Prothero.

Oh, huh. So that’s why Prothero had the same destination, her parents were to be his hosts for the summer. Interesting. “-and I assume you and (y/n) are already acquainted.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tom said, polite as ever, he wasn’t fond of muggles-but he would keep his manners if he wanted this summer to be pleasant in the slightest. At least they were aware of magic. “Wonderful, let’s get going then-I’m sure you’re both tired and need food,” And with that, Tom followed Mr. and Mrs. Prothero out of the station-which was really just a platform with a single building-and climbed into the car awaiting the family and Tom.

They drove deeper into the countryside, passing through a comfy-looking town and into farmland-where Mr. Prothero drove up to a comfortable house that had a farmhouse a good 100 feet away, and a large building about a mile away-all surrounded by fencing.

Tom blinked, sleep eating at his eyes and brain, and he shuffled out of the car as it turned off-and he followed the Prothero family into the home. “Your room is upstairs, to the right of the upstairs hall,” Mrs. Prothero said, pointing at the stairwell to the right of the kitchen-which was bigger than Tom thought it was going to be-blinking at the long table by the window that faced the path back towards town.

“(y/n), show him to his room, please?” Mr. Prothero said, sounding very tired, and Prothero nodded, grabbing her trunk and bag-nodding Tom towards the stairs-he followed, not bothering to say goodnight to his hosts-since they were already shuffling into their room-the light turning off almost as soon as the door closed.

The upstairs hallway was one long hallway, with two doors on either side-photos and portraits decorating the walls, and a door in the middle of the hall between the two ends. “Your room is there,” Prothero said, pointing down the right end, and then she pointed at the other end. “that one’s mine, that’s the bathroom.” she pointed at the middle door. “We share it-and there’s doors in our rooms that connect to it-locks on the inside. So if you use it, make sure to lock the doors when you do.”

Tom nodded, lugging his trunk down the hall and opening the door-nodding at what he saw. It was nearly as big as the dorm room at Hogwarts-but with only one bed. The bed was quite nice, with cream sheets and a green throw blanket at the end, it was just a bit bigger than his bed at Hogwarts and had plenty of pillows to spare.

Tom didn’t bother to examine further-he was exhausted, he had never been on a train so long since his first ride on the Hogwarts Express. He set his trunk on its side and opened it, grabbing his sleep clothes and getting changed, hearing Prothero in the bathroom through the door in the corner of the room. Tom looked through the window next to it-blinking up at the stars that were so bright Tom shut the curtains.

When he heard the door unlock and the other door close-he grabbed his toothbrush and went into the bathroom-brushing his teeth and relieving himself, after washing his hands he shut off the light and unlocked the door on Prothero’s side. He turned off the light in his room and slipped into bed, sinking into the mattress.

This wasn’t bad.

At least he wasn’t at the orphanage, surrounded by stupid muggle kids.

-end of p1-

The elder Riddle boy found it ridiculous to think he’d be standing here, promoting the very school he had subjected to many terrors, schmoozing with the same snobby, stuck-up wizards and witches for hours on end. His mouth ached from being held in a permanent welcoming smile, and the corners of his lips turned upwards in an uncharacteristic manner.

The role of Head Boy came with countless benefits. For one, he was adored and respected by many, something that was absolutely vital to Tom. Similarly, it also helped preserve his image greatly. No one would question Tom if he was roaming the halls late at night, for he was simply upholding his duties. It became an excellent cover for his now frequent trips to the restricted section of the Library.

There were other less beneficial but still preferable upsides. He got his own room, as the Head boy and the Head girl got their own private quarters. He could be excused from meaningless activities such as the mandatory health education days, if he convinced Headmaster Dippet that his time would be better spent elsewhere. Truthfully, there weren't many negatives to being Head Boy.

Having to spend his valuable holiday time dressed in a rather suffocating suit, promoting Hogwarts as one of the best schools to new prospective parents, was not a part of his role that Tom enjoyed. But if this is the small inconvenience he would have to put up with twice in his one year as Head student, then so be it.

There was, of course, you. That was perhaps the worst part of the job. Having to work alongside you. Tom loathed you, more than he did the average person.

You pranced into the school, having only joined in the 6th year. Within a week of your arrival, the teachers could not stop raving about the prodigy that they had the pleasure of teaching. Your hand shot up before Tom’s, and your marks were almost always higher by 1 damned percent. It wasn’t just enough that you had stolen Tom’s spotlight, no, you made sure you were front and centre in every field. Tom excelled in academics, you excelled in everything. From sports to extracurriculars, no one stood a chance if you were there.

But perhaps what infuriated Tom the most, was that you were nice. People adored you, and you naturally managed to captivate everyone with a sort of charisma that had teachers and students alike stumbling over one another for the chance to speak with you. You had it all, with absolutely no flaws.

Tom didn’t have a valid reason to hate you. With the others, he could attribute his hatred to their foolishness, their stupidity, or their overall incompetence. But you? There was nothing. It was irrational to hate you - the golden girl of Hogwarts, and that was what infuriated him more. It betrayed every rule he held himself to; he always had to be logical and meticulous.

Tom seethed inwardly as he watched you effortlessly charm yet another set of parents, your smile radiant and your words smooth as silk. He couldn't deny your talent or your intelligence, but it grated on him nonetheless. You were a constant reminder of everything he wanted to be but couldn't quite attain.

It wasn't just the fact that you outshone him in every aspect; it was the way you did it with such ease, as if it were effortless for you to excel in every endeavour. Meanwhile, Tom had to meticulously plan and scheme for every bit of recognition he received, always calculating his next move to stay ahead.

His eyes rake down your form, taking in the deep red dress that you wore. No doubt the finest silk draped over your body, a sort of blood red that caught under the dim lights of the chandeliers. Drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever you went, the fabric flowed gracefully around your figure, accentuating your curves in all the right places without revealing too much.

You were undeniably stunning, yet another thing to add to a list of your perfections. You handled the disgustingly leering eyes of the elder Wizards, who came to talk to you, with grace.

A damned Gryffindor too, as though your very presence wasn’t offensive enough.

Gods, he hated you. He really did. Your mere presence was enough to set him on edge, a fire burning through his veins that could never seem to be quenched no matter how hard he tried. He runs a hand through his lightly gelled hair, walking over to the far side of the Great Hall. With the rest of the attendees being otherwise engaged in conversation, he grabs a glass of champagne, knuckles white as he grips the delicate glass stem and drains it in one go. He sets the glass back down and sighs before plastering a fake smile on his face, manoeuvring through the crowd.

As Headmaster Dippet ascended the small stage at the front of the great hall, a hush fell over the crowd. He cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles before addressing the gathered guests.

"Good evening, esteemed colleagues, parents, and students," he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "I would like to extend a warm welcome to each and every one of you to our annual open evening here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The assembled guests murmured their acknowledgements, and Headmaster Dippet continued, his tone warm and welcoming.

"We are delighted to have the opportunity to showcase the many wonders of our esteemed institution to you all," he said, gesturing expansively to the grand surroundings of the great hall. "From our esteemed faculty to our talented students, Hogwarts prides itself on providing a world-class education in the magical arts."

A ripple of polite applause echoed through the hall, and Headmaster Dippet smiled warmly before continuing.

"I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest gratitude to all of our dedicated staff and volunteers who have worked tirelessly to make this evening possible," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Their commitment and dedication to our beloved school are truly commendable, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for their efforts."

Another round of applause filled the air, and Headmaster Dippet nodded in appreciation before raising his hand for silence once more.

"And now, my dear guests, I invite you to partake in the festivities," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Our talented orchestra awaits to serenade you with their delightful melodies, and I encourage you to take to the dance floor and enjoy the evening's entertainment to the fullest."

With a final smile and a gracious bow, Headmaster Dippet stepped down from the stage, leaving the guests to mingle and enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities.

You look over at Tom and find he’s already looking at you, a shift in his gaze when you lock eyes with him. You see him sigh, and motion to the large area of floor which had been dedicated to dancing. The very face of the school, the two of you step up, and dark green clashes with deep red, the serpent and the lion front and centre. Your hand finds his, cold and unwelcoming, and his other comes down to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against silk.

The melodic hum of the violins echo through the hall, watchful eyes on the two of you. Your steps were hesitant at first. Gradually, as you found your footing, your movements became more fluid, if not entirely harmonious.

“Smile, Riddle. At least make it seem like you’re happy to be here.” You mutter lowly, only for his ears. He clenches his jaw, but ultimately he knows you are, as always, right. A small smile graces his lips, looking down at you as he speaks harshly under his breath.

“I’m not happy to be here.” He snaps, and a smirk tugs at your lips as the two of you continue dancing, harshly whispering to one another.

Tom's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. Yet, despite the tension that simmered between you, you refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a lazy smirk of your own.

"Is that so, Riddle?" you retorted, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with undeniable challenge. "Because it seems to me like you're doing a splendid job of pretending." You quip sarcastically.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with a forceful urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

Tom's lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he hissed, each word punctuated by a sharp edge of contempt. "But you can't hide your true nature forever, no matter how hard you try. I'm just waiting for the day that perfect facade of yours crumbles.”

Your smirk only widened at his words, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you leaned back slightly, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging one of your own.

"Ah, but dear Tom," you countered, your voice silky smooth despite the tension crackling between you. "I don't need to hide anything. Unlike some people, I don't have dark secrets."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

You simply chuckled, a sound filled with smug satisfaction as you leaned in to whisper your reply. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, Riddle," you murmured, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all, it's not like your plans are a well-kept secret."

For a split second, Tom froze, his eyes widening in surprise before a mask of cold indifference settled over his features. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, his tone icy as he pulled away from you, his grip on your waist loosening slightly.

“Oh of course not. I’m all the more intrigued to see how it will all play out.” You hum, an infuriatingly smug grin on your face as you look up at him, as bold and blunt as you've ever been.

Tom must admit he’s somewhat suprised. You seemed so demure and polite, he had never expected such directness from yourself.

The song comes to a close, everyone applauding as you meet Tom’s stare head-on, refusing to break away. You go to walk away when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him with terrifying force as the orchestra begins playing once more, with everyone else joining in.

The sudden tug at your waist caught you off guard, your breath hitching as you found yourself pulled back into Tom. His grip was firm, almost possessive.

"What do you think you're doing, Riddle?" you demanded, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension as you struggled against his hold.

But Tom's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into yours with a steely resolve that sent a chill down your spine. "Dancing," he replied curtly, his tone clipped as he held you close, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

He leans in closer, breath fanning against your ear as he speaks.

"You do realize you're playing with fire, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

“I’m not afraid of being burned.” You remark back quickly, meeting his frustrated gaze with a teasing one of your own.

Tom's lips quirked into a sardonic smile at your response, a flash of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps you should be," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a warning tone.

You let go of Tom as the music comes to a close and he doesn't immediately pull you back. You look at him for a second more before tearing your gaze away and disappearing into the crowd.

Silly, silly girl.

Tom pursues straight after you, murmuring half-assed apologies to the couples he shoves past. The serpent slithers through the crowd, far in over his head, desperate for a glimpse of that red.

As Tom finally catches sight of you weaving through the throngs of people, his frustration mounts, fueled by the relentless desire to confront you. Without a second thought, he pushes past the last couple blocking his path and quickens his pace, determination etched into every line of his face.

"[Name]!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. But you don't stop, your figure disappearing around a corner just ahead.

Refusing to be thwarted, Tom breaks into a sprint, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes the distance between you. Finally reaching the corner, he turns sharply, only to find you standing just a few feet away, your back pressed against the cold stone wall of the corridor.

A smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you watch him approach. "What's the matter, Riddle?" you taunt, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Can't keep up?"

Tom's jaw clenches, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

You tilt your head to the side, a mocking smile playing on your lips. "I don't have to think, Riddle," you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I know."

A flicker of annoyance flashes across Tom's features, but he quickly masks it with a cold indifference. "You may be clever, but you're also reckless," he retorts, his voice icy as he takes a step closer, crowding your space.

"And you're one to talk," you shoot back, your voice laced with a challenge.

Without warning, Tom closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist with a forceful grip.

Before you can react, he's dragging you down the corridor, his steps purposeful as he leads you to the nearest empty classroom. You stumble along beside him, caught off guard by his sudden aggression.

He shoves open the door, pulling you inside with him as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, fumbling around for a desk as Tom slams the door shut, He turns to you, breathing heavily as he takes a step forward, forcing you to back up into the desk behind you.

“What do you know.” He utters, voice low as he clenches his jaw.

"I know enough," you reply evenly, meeting his intense gaze with unwavering defiance. "I know that you're not as invincible as you think you are. Though you’re certainly trying to get to that point."

A flicker of anger flashes across Tom's features, his eyes narrowing as he takes another step closer, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. "You know nothing," he retorts sharply, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

You should feel ashamed, you should avert your eyes, but you cannot help but feel thrilled at the sight of Tom so angry, a familiar flutter in your stomach as he looks away, his jaw clenched.

The corner of your lips turn upwards into a provocative grin, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

Tom lets his gaze stray downwards for one second and he knows he’s fucked.

Completely and utterly done for. He’s fallen for the most stupidly infuriating, brainless, primal emotion of them all. Tom Riddle, who is smart, manipulative, and cunning, has lost his cool because of lust.

How utterly pathetic.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling with a mixture of disgust and arousal. He hates you, despises every fibre of your being, and yet, that only seems to fuel the fire burning inside him.

You remain silent, observing him carefully as you are not privy to his innermost thoughts.

For a moment, there's a palpable silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. And then, without warning, Tom's hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with a bruising grip as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"You don't know anything," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.

You don't have the time to even think of a response because Tom’s lips are crashing onto yours, replacing every single thought in your head with him and him only.

It's more angry than it is anything else, mouths clashing against one another in a punishing kiss. His grip on your jaw is bruising, a stray hand coming down to rest against the curve of your thigh and push you up so you're sitting on the desk.

He kisses you with fervour, as though he’s trying to steal the oxygen from your lungs and snuff the life out of those damn eyes.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer as you meet his kiss with fervour, your lips moving against his with a desperate need that borders on reckless abandon.

“Tom,” You murmur, a gasped plea as your nails dig into his bicep. He pays it no mind, lips coming down to press open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It's maddening, the way you've managed to unravel him with just a glance, a touch, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable in your presence.

But even as he loses himself in the heat of the moment, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the danger you represent. You know things, dangerous things, secrets that could unravel everything he's worked so hard to achieve. And yet, in this moment, none of it matters.

His rationale and will is eroded to nothing, consumed by the need to possess you fully.

Your hand wraps around his tie, tugging him slightly as you lean back, breaking the kiss. You gaze down at him, green tie wrapped tightly around your hand, and Tom wants to groan at the interruption, though he refuses to give you the satisfaction of doing so.

“Lust is a sin, you know?” You hum, lips slightly swollen and red as you keep Tom in place, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Tom didn’t care. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t believe in God. Tom didn't care about the concept of heaven and hell either. If being with you meant risking damnation, he was more than willing to take that chance.

“So is Lying. Greed. Hatred. Jealousy.” You list, tugging at Tom's tie with each word, pulling him lower and lower until he’s the one looking up at you. You lean back on your palms, crossing your legs as you narrow your eyes.

“Quite the sinner, aren’t you?” You hum, your voice laced with amusement.

Tom is done for, looking up at you with his mind filled with nothing but a visceral need for you.

“Perhaps.” He mutters, his voice strained.

He reaches out for you but you tut, placing a heel on his shoulder as you forcefully push him down, forcing him onto his knees in front of you with his tie still grasped firmly in your hand. The action causes your dress to slip slightly where the slit occurs in the side, revealing a glimpse of your skin so close to Tom’s face that he can’t tear his eyes off of it. A devious grin graces your face, tilting your head as you pull your plush lip between your teeth.

“Do you believe I won’t get into heaven?” Tom murmurs, stupidly playing into this game of yours as he looks up at you.

You laugh, low and mocking as you look down at him.

“Oh Tom, at the rate you’re going at I’ll be the closest you ever get to paradise.”

Tom may have been strong, but he was only human, and mankind was prone to crumble in the face of temptation.

“What do you suggest I do then?” He growls, his voice a low rumble filled with frustration and desire. You smirk down at him, relishing in the power you hold over him, knowing that you've managed to unravel the facade of control he presents to the world. With a flick of your wrist, you release his tie from your grasp, allowing it to fall limply against his chest.

Your heel remains as it is, pressing down firmly on his shoulder to ensure he remains in the same position as you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Repent.”

Repentance is not something he's accustomed to, nor is it something he's ever considered. But in this moment, with you holding all the cards, he finds himself willing to entertain the notion, if only to appease the insatiable hunger gnawing at his soul.

-----

You hadn’t been to many parties since you started high school, but the ones you had gone to had always gotten rowdy. Spilled out all over a house except for any rooms marked Occupied or Out of Bounds. The front and back yards would be covered in cans and bottles and cups. And quite a few people passed out.

This party might be in full swing, but it was nothing like the last parties you’d gone to. There were a lot of people, but everyone was squished into the basement den. A few went up into the kitchen in sets of two or three or more, but they all came right back after they got a refill or more snacks.

As it was, there were only about twenty people at this party. Once upon a time that’d be laughed at, considered a failure of a party, but this time? You were honestly surprised to see this many people at the graduation party most people had been looking forward to.

Why were things different this time? Simple. 

Over the last three weeks, seven people had been brutally murdered in your small, sleepy coastal town. Four teenagers, one parent, one police officer, and one unlucky Good Samaritan. Everyone said that nothing like this had ever happened here before and you believed it. It wasn’t a place where people left their doors unlocked, but murders? Multiple murders in just a few weeks? It was unheard of.

The media named the murderer the Seaside Slasher, but tonight everyone had his real name. He had been caught when he fled the scene of his last murder. No one recognized the name as being a local. As terrifying as it was that a random man had come to your town to brutally murder complete strangers, it didn’t matter. It was over. He was in jail.

Parents had reluctantly granted permission for the seniors to go to parties as a way to celebrate the upcoming graduation and a way to mourn the loss of their classmates. Your parents had been very hesitant to grant permission, but your older brother who had come to town made them agree that you deserved to let loose.

Not that this party was much of a way to do that. Music played so softly that you could barely hear it, teenagers sat around and talked quietly. You hadn’t expected a blowout or anything, but this felt more like study hall. 

You could either stay here and be reminded of the horrors of the last few weeks or you could go home and actually relax. It wasn’t a hard decision.

A quiet goodbye to your group of friends later, you went up the stairs and slipped your shoes on. You checked your purse for your things and then headed to the front door.

“Where you headed sweetie?”

You turned around and saw the mom of the student whose house you were in. You smiled as you hoisted your purse over your shoulder.

“I’m going to head home. My parents didn’t want me out for long with everything.”

The mom smiled, but you could tell it was with a heavy heart. She looked out the glass of the front door and frowned a bit.

“It’s late. Do you want me or my husband to drive you?”

That wasn’t a rare occurrence even without the murders still hanging over the heads of everyone, but you still shook your head.

“No, I live one street over, on Granite Avenue. It won’t take long.”

She laughed a bit as she reached out and touched my shoulder.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be so cautious. He was caught, wasn’t he? We’re safe now.”

“But it’s hard to switch gears that fast,” you added, since that’s exactly how your parents had worded it. She laughed as if you had read her mind, but you could see she was still a bit hesitant to let you walk. “I’ll call once I’m home. How’s that?”

With your friend’s mom placated, you headed out into the night air. It wasn’t overbearingly hot, even though summer was right at the cusp. Living this close to the coast meant there was also a little bit of a breeze though.

You walked down the street a few blocks before you cut across to your own street. There weren’t many sounds in the distance, just the sound of your feet on the asphalt, but you still felt the hair rise on the back of your neck the longer you were out. You sped up your pace until you could see your house clearly, the front porch light on to welcome you home.

Maybe your parents had the right idea to not want you to go out. It didn’t matter that you were safe, right then you felt like you were being hunted.

On the front porch you pulled out your key and let yourself in. There were no lights on upstairs or in the living room as you put your purse down and tugged off your shoes. You bypassed the stairs and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. With it in your hand, you took a few sips before you headed to the stairs that led down to the den where your brother was staying. There wasn’t an overhead light on but flickers from the television. He was probably awake though and you wanted to let someone know that you were home.

Down the stairs, you looked over to the couch and saw the back of your brother’s head as he was facing the television which was on the local news on mute. Right as you opened your mouth to say something to alert him to your presence, you saw what was on the television screen.

Captions ran across the bottom of the screen in a delay to the way the anchor’s mouth was moving, but you saw the picture in the corner of the screen and the tag under it.

SEASIDE SLASHER ESCAPED POLICE CUSTODY

“Oh god,” you whispered as you stared at the news footage. Somehow the murderer had gotten free and whereabouts were unknown. 

You needed to call your friend and let them know that you were home and also what had happened, in case they didn’t already know. You needed to wake your parents. You needed to…

“Jere?”

You whispered your brother’s name, not wanting to scare him, but he didn’t budge from watching the news. You flicked the light on which would have ordinarily caused him to at least jerk but he didn’t move still.

Unease filled you as you tiptoed across the carpet to the edge of the couch. As you peered around, multiple things happened at once.

The first was that you saw your brother, his eyes dull and face slack as blood oozed from his neck. He was propped up on the couch to look like he was still alive, but he very much wasn’t. 

The second was that crumpled on the floor in front of the couch, hidden from view at first, was your mom. Her face was upturned a bit, but had the same dull eyed look as your brother as she laid in a pool of blood that soaked into the thick carpet underfoot.

The third was that, from the corner of your eye, you saw something move in the reflection of the framed picture of your family that hung over the television. That split second heads up is what made you spin around only to be face to face with a masked murderer who held a bloodied knife in his hand.

The scream came out of you all at once, from the horror of seeing your murdered brother and sister to the terror of being face to face with their murderer. It all happened so quickly that you just screamed for it all as you immediately started to run. You tossed the glass of water you held at his face as you took off across the room.

It meant you had to run through the pool of blood and you felt your socks soak in some of it as you did, but you couldn’t focus on that. You couldn’t focus on the fact that you’d just run past the dead bodies of your loved ones. You could only focus on survival.

Another scream came out of your throat and you felt something slash against your shoulder. He had caught up to you. You bounced off the wall and then darted behind the couch, desperate to get to the stairs, but he was right on you. Your hand grasped a picture frame from the shelf nearest you and you spun around to slam it against his face as you scrambled, screaming as his knife cut into your stomach. You needed to put distance between you and him, needed to get up the stairs. Needed to…

Was your dad even alive? Maybe he had been killed too. Maybe there was no one in the house to hear you scream.

Your face was slammed against the corner of the wall near the stairs, another slash of the knife as it went across your shoulder blades. The den wasn’t large enough to run from him, nowhere to hide. You were going to be killed, you were going to be—

A thunderous noise came to your attention right before someone came down the stairs and barreled into the body that was holding you against the wall, the knife carving against your back and the back of your arm as he was ripped away. You screamed as you spun around, but you watched as your dad wrestled the masked man to the floor and ripped the knife from his hands. Even though the other man fought back, your dad had something to help him.

Cuffs. He was in his police uniform so he must have just gotten home and heard your screams. 

As your heart stopped pounding in your ears you heard your dad’s voice break through the fog.

“–911, okay? You need to call 911!” 

You stumbled over to the landline that was kept in the den, your feet screaming as you did, but you didn’t focus on that. Just on getting to the phone. Hitting the 9 then the 1 then the 1 again. Then you slumped against the ground as a voice came across to ask what was your emergency.

“Please,” you begged softly as your eyes went to the dead bodies that you could clearly see, your eyes welling up with tears as you felt nausea roll through you. “Oh god, please just…please.”

A bloodied hand entered your vision and you screamed, but your dad bent down so that you could see his face.

“Give me the phone sweetheart, let me,” he said, tears in his eyes. 

You must have given it to him. Or maybe he just took it from you. Either way, you watched as he walked back to where he had tackled the masked man as he spoke quickly into the phone. He stumbled over to the body of your mom and knelt down, those tears now pouring over his cheeks. You couldn’t hear his words, but you closed your eyes so you couldn’t see it anymore. 

Everything hurt. Your feet from walking through broken glass, either from your water that you’d thrown or the picture you’d smashed against his face. Your back from the multiple knife slashes. Your stomach from the knife. Both of your arms from the knife. Your head from being bashed into the wall.

Your heart. That’s what hurt worse. 

—

“You sure this is what you want?”

You looked over at your dad and then back down to the papers in your hands. It listed the information about your dorm room assignment and orientation. You were about 30 miles away from the city but your dad was finally asking the question you knew had been on the tip of his tongue since you had told him that you had gotten into NYU.

“Little late to change my mind, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. I’ll turn this car around right now if you ask me to.”

You knew he would, but you didn’t want him to.

At one point you had contemplated going to a college closer to home, maybe driving in to see your parents every now and then. Maybe you’d go to your brother’s college. Then…

“This is what I want,” you said softly as you looked out of the window to the cars that were all heading the same direction.

“Okay sweetheart,” your dad replied equally softly. “You know I’ll worry about you in a city like New York, but I can’t fault you for wanting to get as far away as you can.”

Your arms subconsciously came around your stomach, fingers searching out the rigid raised scar that stretched beside your naval almost to your side.

“Bad things happen in the city, but bad things happen in small towns too,” you reminded your dad, as if he ever needed a reminder. 

As if he hadn’t nailed the door to the den shut the day of the funeral.

“Maybe I’ll move out this way too,” he said instead of addressing your comment. “Less travel so we can see each other.”

Normally the thought of a parent moving to be closer to where you were going to college would seem embarrassing or ridiculous. This time it sounded like a good idea.

“Maybe you should,” you replied as you looked over at your dad, the bags under his eyes and the gray that seemed to sprout up in the last six months. “I think that would be a good idea.”

—

Your roommate was out at another party, but you didn’t mind. You’d gotten used to the solitude, even surrounded by people as you were in New York.

Instead you stared at the computer screen where you had been doing homework. An email had come into your personal box and desperate for a change in pace, you’d opened it. Now you were unable to look away.

A news alert. You’d set it up before you left for college, although this was the first alert you’d gotten. The article was short and to the point, but you kept staring at the headline.

SEASIDE SLASHER SENTENCED TO DEATH

Your phone rang as you read the words again and you answered without looking at the caller ID. You already knew who it was.

“Did you see–”

“Yes,” you said quickly, cutting your dad off. “Yeah, I’m looking at it now.”

Both of you sat in silence on the phone for a few more minutes, neither of you sure what to say at first.

“It’ll be years before it’s actually carried out,” your dad said finally. “These things go through certain stages and he can appeal but, it’s not like there’s much chance of him winning. Justice will be served.”

You closed your eyes and flipped through memories of that night like a flipbook. You felt the horror and terror and pain flow through you all over again.

“Good.”

—

“You’ll never guess who I saw earlier,” your friend Karen said as she flopped down onto your couch. “Never in a million years guess.”

“Frank Castle,” you teased back, not needing to guess. 

Her laughter was a good enough answer to tell you that you were right. You laughed as you spun around in your desk chair to look at her.

“And? Did he ask you out or are you continuing to pretend not to like him?”

This was a pretty common sight in your tiny little apartment. You and Karen had met in college and stayed friends even with both of you having hectic lives. Now, out in the real world as it was, you two still hung out a few times a week. To the point where you each had keys to the other’s places.

“He asked me out.”

You let out a whoop and pumped your fist in the air. 

“Knew he had it in him!”

“Oh shut up,” she laughed even as she got a starry look in her eyes. “I think I’ve led him on quite a chase already.”

Those two had circled each other for a while, neither one relenting at first even though it was obvious they both liked each other. You were almost annoyed at how perfect they were for each other.

“He said he has this friend named Kevin. He wanted to know if…”

You weren’t sure why Karen had trailed off until you realized you were frowning. 

“No blind dates,” you said as you spun back around to your computer. “I appreciate it and all, but I’m fine.”

Your hand went down to your stomach and traced the ridge of the scar in a familiar fashion. You knew without looking that Karen had caught the gesture.

“I know that your first time ended badly, but not every guy is going to…”

She trailed off but you turned to look at her.

“To what, freak out when he sees me naked because I look like someone tried to unsuccessfully gut me like a fish?”

Your college boyfriend had been surprised when he’d seen you without a shirt on, but that wasn’t what had ruined the mood. Even when he’d seen the scars on your back or your arms, he would still have been willing to go further, but it was you that stopped it.

Simply because he had asked “what happened?” As if that wasn’t a reasonable question at that moment.

“I know that you don’t like talking about what happened,” Karen started softly, and then a little more forceful when you scoffed, “but you can’t keep going like this. You rarely leave your apartment unless it’s to come to mine, you never date because you don’t want to talk to anyone about what happened, you only ever talk to me or your dad. It’s not healthy.”

The hand that had pressed against the scar reached up to work the mouse on your computer, although your eyes were unfocused as your mind replayed Karen’s words over and over again.

“Have you thought about going back to a counselor?”

You shook the mouse to make the screensaver go away.

“The last one looked freaked out when I tried to explain what happened. Hard to go back to one after that.”

Karen was one of the only people in the city that knew what had happened to you. It had happened one night about two years into being friends when the two of you had gone out drinking. You’d gotten spooked by someone wearing a ski mask, even though it was winter and obviously cold outside. Karen had found you having a panic attack in the bathroom and everything had just flowed out of you.

She was a great friend, your best friend. That was the only reason you didn’t kick her out of your apartment as she pushed for you to better yourself.

Except you didn’t want to keep having this conversation, so you opened your mouth to change topic but your cell ringing stopped you. Your dad’s picture showed up so you answered it with a smile.

“Hey dad.”

“Hey sweetheart,” he started, his voice slow and careful. “What are you up to?”

“Just sitting at my apartment with Karen,” you said as you turned back to Karen who called out a hello to your dad as she picked up a magazine off your coffee table. “What’s up?”

It took a moment before he answered.

“Have you been watching the news?”

Both you and your dad lived in New York, although he was a ways away from the city, but you knew he didn’t mean the local news. Not even state news. There was something in his voice that told you he meant the news back home.

“No,” you said as you turned to your computer and typed in a search. “I turned off my alerts a while back. Why, what…oh.”

The headline was the first one that popped up, sixteen hours old.

SEASIDE SLASHER EXECUTED

The article wasn’t very long, but you read through it twice just in case. Pretty to the point. No stay of execution was ordered, so the execution had been scheduled. Some of the family members of the victims were present, noticeably absent was the family of the last victims but you and your dad’s names weren’t listed at least. His last words were quoted near the bottom of the article.

“You have no idea. I’ll be back.”

You closed your eyes and took a few breaths until you were regulated once more. When you opened your eyes, Karen was standing beside you and obviously reading the screen because her hand went to your shoulder to give you an encouraging squeeze.

“I guess it’s over,” you said as you covered her hand with yours.

“I guess so,” your dad said back.

For some reason, neither of you sounded convinced.

—

It had been Frank’s idea to leave the city for a few days. While his reasoning was different from yours, you had to admit that you weren’t against the idea. It was around Halloween and while that holiday had not always been an issue for you, sometime over the last few years you just started to react differently. 

Even though the man that had killed multiple people in your town, including your mom and brother, had been executed a few years ago, you still felt like you couldn’t fully breathe and be at ease. You didn’t know how to explain it, but that’s just how you felt. Halloween in the city meant seeing people dressed in costumes and a majority of that wasn’t a problem. It just put you more on edge.

Not that your apartment ever got trick or treaters.Still.

“My friend is gonna come out to join us,” Frank said as he carried your bags into the little cabin. “Before you say anything, it’s not a setup kind of thing. Billy is just like a brother to me, I want him to meet the girl that’s like a sister to Karen.”

“Karen already told me. Plus I’ve heard a lot about this Billy guy over the years, it’d be nice to actually meet him.”

Frank was a great guy and had been great to Karen since the two of them had gotten their shit together to start dating. You hadn’t known that Frank was military when the two of them first met, but they made it work. In fact you couldn’t think of any couple that was as in love as the two of them.

So no, you knew that Frank wasn’t the type to try to push a blind date on you. You’d heard a hundred stories about Billy Russo but whenever they were back in the city, you weren’t able to meet up. Sometimes it was for legitimate reasons, deadlines for work or that one memorable Thanksgiving you had the stomach flu. Sometimes it was just because your anxiety and fear had gotten triggered by other situations and you couldn’t leave your house.

This was good though. You were out in the world which always made Karen happy, you were going to meet Frank’s best friend which would make him happy, and you were secluded from any potential jumpscares that Halloween might provide which made you happy. It was a win-win-win. 

Two frozen pizzas were popped into the oven and the three of you settled into the living room to watch a movie. Frank got updates from Billy on his own travel out from the city to a remote cabin that you all had rented for the long weekend. When you’d asked why he hadn’t met up with you all to head out together, Frank revealed that Billy liked to do things on his own.

You understood that. 

The movie was some actiony Blockbuster that you only vaguely recognized the name of, but it wasn’t really meant to keep everyone’s attention. It was more background noise while the three of you talked. Karen was in the middle of a story from her work at the law office when what sounded like a car pulling up had all of you looking over to the door.

“Bill said he still had an hour left,” Frank said as he checked his phone again. Then he stood up and approached the door and looked through the glass. “Huh. I don’t see a car besides ours.”

Karen frowned and got up to move over to the large glass windows that you had pulled the curtains closed on. She opened them just a bit and looked around.

“Think they drove around to the back? The driveway wraps around the house.”

Frank walked out of the living room and into the kitchen to check back there, but called that there wasn’t a car there either. 

“Maybe someone just turned around in the driveway and was gone before you got up?” you offered as you tried not to let yourself get swept away in worry and fear.

“That…is a good possibility,” Karen agreed as she let go of the curtains and moved to sit next to you once more. “Out here away from the city you can hear everything like that. It didn’t sound too close, now that I’m thinking about it.”

Frank came back into the living room with another piece of pizza halfway eaten already as he nodded in agreement. He sat down on the chair closest to the television and put his feet back up on the coffee table.

“I always forget you both are from small towns,” he said as he wiped his hands on a napkin before he crumpled it and tossed it with the rest of the dinner’s debris on the coffee table. “I’m used to cities.”

You stretched your legs out and then moved so that you were sitting criss cross on the couch cushion.

“My town was tiny. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone, secrets were nearly impossible to have, people felt comfortable going to anyone’s house and asking for something if they needed it. It was…it was a great place to grow up.”

You waved off Frank’s look of concern with a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. The last therapist said that I needed to get better about talking about the good things from my past. It wasn’t all…bad.”

Karen reached over and squeezed your hand in support which just made your chest swell with a bitter happiness. How bad off were you that you could be praised for doing something as simple as talking about the good days of your past?

Knock knock.

All three of you looked over at the door. Frank glanced over at his phone once more and then stood up. He went to the door and looked out of the small window, but didn’t seem to see anyone. When his hand went to the bolt, you opened your mouth but immediately closed it.

This was just a normal situation. It wasn’t anything to get worked up about. If you gave into your fear every time something happened that was out of your hands, you’d never get to have a normal life.

He opened the door just a few inches and looked out, the light from the house flooding out onto the porch. He flicked on the overhead light but didn’t open the glass door to step out and check.

Tap tap tap.

All of you looked over to the window that was in front of you, angled so that someone standing in front of it wouldn’t be visible from the front door. You opened your mouth and looked over at Karen who was frowning. Frank held a hand out, but Karen stood up and marched over to the window. She didn’t pull the curtains wide, but she didn’t have to. The moment she pulled them even partially open, the sight made her scream and jump backwards.

There was someone just outside of the window dressed in a black hoodie with a Halloween mask on their face. You recognized the mask from some horror film or other that had come out years and years ago, but that didn’t really click. Instead you found yourself staring at the mask, mouth open as if to scream, but nothing coming out.

Things happened very quickly after that. Karen had turned to Frank who was already out of the house in the blink of an eye. You were up and launching yourself to the kitchen, hands fumbling as you pulled open drawer after drawer before you found the knives. You grabbed the largest one and swung around, but then you jumped back as you saw the person with the mask was in the living room.

Except the mask was in his hand and you recognized him. It was Frank’s friend Billy. Frank’s friend Billy who was being yelled at by Karen as she yanked the mask out of his hand.

Your body was still in fight or flight, the knife held aloft as if to ward off anyone from coming closer. When someone did move closer to you, you recognized that it was Frank but still couldn’t lower your arm. You heard your name being called, heard Karen say your name as well, but you still couldn’t move. 

You were safe as long as you stayed right where you were. Your back was to a solid wall, the knife was in front of you. You would be safe, you would be…

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” a voice softly called to you from your left. You turned your head and saw Karen, a few feet away with her hands up, her face paler than you’d ever seen it. “It was just a mistake, a stupid prank. Everything is okay.”

Your eyes looked past Karen and Frank to where Billy stood, his eyes wide as he stared back at you. He raised his hands slowly and showed his palms. Then he spoke, or maybe just mouthed the words.

You are safe.

Safe. You shut your eyes for a moment and then when you opened them back up, the haze you had gone under when everything had happened was lifted. You dropped the knife and shrank back into the wall so that you wouldn’t crumple. 

“Oh god,” you whimpered as you looked over at Karen, “I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

“No, of course not,” Frank answered as he grabbed the knife and put it on the counter. 

Karen swooshed in and wrapped you in a hug. You held on as tight as you could and buried your face in her shoulder. You weren’t crying, no tears and no body wracking sobs. Just shook as adrenaline fled your body.

“I am so sorry,” a new voice said a few feet away. When you glanced up, you met Billy’s dark eyes as he stared at you and Karen. “I didn’t…I didn’t know. I thought it would be a funny prank, I didn’t know.”

Didn’t know what? You remembered seeing Karen yell at him as she pulled the mask from his hand and you assumed that maybe she had said something. Something to let him know that he just traumatized you a bit.

You sniffled and pulled away from Karen. Then you stepped a little closer to Billy.

“We haven’t been formally introduced. Hi, I’m…a survivor of a masked serial killer.”

Billy let out a shocked laugh and held his hand out to you.

“Nice to meet you.”

—

Karen and Frank had gone to bed around midnight and although you should have done the same, you found yourself still sitting in the living room with Billy at almost two in the morning. Once everything had settled down and Billy had apologized again for scaring you, you all had gone into the living room to talk and try to recoup from the events that had happened. 

Once the couple had gone to bed, the comfortable silence had made you say something you hadn’t expected.

“It was my senior year. In total, nine people were killed. Including my mom and my brother. I think I was going to be number ten if my dad hadn’t arrived.”

With that, you spilled the whole story in a way you’d only done with Karen and with a few therapists. You told Billy everything that had happened and how it made you feel. 

“I don’t leave my apartment much,” you admitted as you stared down at where your fingers were picking at the thread on the blanket over your lap. “Karen has helped a lot with that, and Frank too now. They help me get out and feel…safe. Halloween is a hard time because of the masks. It’s like I go right back to the den that night, feel like I’m going to die.”

“I’m really sorry about everything. I had no idea.”

“I know,” you whispered softly as you looked over to where Billy was watching you. “To be honest, that’s the scariest thing that’s happened to me since…since the attack. As messed up as it is, I think…I think it helped me.”

Billy tilted his head to show that he was listening, but he didn’t say anything. As if he knew him speaking would make you not say what was on your mind.

“I’ve been in a holding pattern since it all happened. I moved to the city for college and then I got an apartment and a job and somewhat of a life, but there’s a part of me that never left my hometown. A part of me that is still running around that room, thinking I was going to die. Tonight, when I was scared for my life again, I didn’t run. Or well, I did, but I was going to fight. I was going to…I wasn’t going to be caught unprepared again. I was going to fight.”

You bit your bottom lip as you looked down at your hands. Then slowly you grabbed your shirt and pulled up the hem to show your scar. It was the first time you’d voluntarily shown anyone besides doctors or Karen.

“This is just one of them, but...I was always ashamed. That I came out of that terrible night with just some scars. It never felt right that I was alive with just scars, when everyone else was gone.”

Billy’s eyes had moved down to the scar along your stomach, but the way they lingered didn’t make you feel hideous or like he thought you were a freak. In fact, the way his eyes moved along the skin made butterflies appear in your stomach.

“Survivor’s guilt is a difficult thing,” he said as he finally raised his eyes to meet yours. “You have that fear, but you also feel guilty. Like you shouldn’t get to be carefree because you don’t think you should have survived.”

You lowered your shirt and thought about that, let it sit for a while. Then you closed your eyes and laughed.

“Six therapists. I’ve seen six therapists and no one has put it so perfectly.”

Billy leaned his head back against the couch for a moment and then looked over at you.

“Every tour that Frankie and I do, I always tell myself that I probably won’t make it back. I make smart decisions and I do what I can to survive, but I accepted a long time ago that no one would notice if I was gone.”

“Frank would,” you said softly, your eyes darting over to the hallway where Karen and Frank’s room was. “He said that you’re like a brother to him.”

When you looked back at Billy, he was staring at you with an emotion you couldn’t name.

“The guy. What happened to him?”

The jump from topics made you confused for a moment before you shook your head to clear it a bit.

“He was sentenced to death and a few years ago, he was executed.”

Billy nodded as he stood up, stretching a bit until his back popped.

“Good. That’s…good.”

He moved into the kitchen and you didn’t follow or try to speak to him while he was in there. You had a feeling that Billy was going through his own journey with the things that weighed on him, but you weren’t going to push.

When he came back into the living room, he gestured to the hall.

“Should probably head to bed. It’s late.”

You nodded and stood up. To extend the time with Billy, you grabbed the trash from the coffee table and moved into the kitchen to throw it away. When you opened the trash can, you stared down at the mask that had started it all.

“Here,” Billy said as he took the trash from you and pushed it into the can, burying the mask completely. “Like it never happened.”

You glanced up at Billy’s face and then nodded, even though you knew that wasn’t what you felt like at all. Just like you had said to Billy, you felt like the whole ordeal pushed you into the healing part of your journey. Now you honestly felt like you could breathe again.

It had been a long time coming, but you were starting to feel whole once more.

—

“I have a box of picture frames. Where do you want it?”

Karen looked over at you and then glanced at the messy living room. 

“Put them on the coffee table for now? Honestly I have no idea what I want to do with this place.”

You laughed when you placed the heavy box on the coffee table. Honestly you didn’t blame Karen for being a bit overwhelmed. Frank and Billy and Curtis had moved the furniture into the house over the weekend so you and Karen took it on yourself to unpack as much as you could.

Karen and Frank’s new house was very nice and as everything was unloaded, it slowly became more and more like a home. You were happy for the two of them, even if you were a little envious.

Since that Halloween cabin trip, you had made a lot of strides with getting over your past. Even so, you were just starting to get your life back together.

Including going on a few dates over the last few weeks. Still nothing serious, but casual dating isn’t bad every now and then. 

As you unpacked books for the bookshelf, you let your mind wander to Billy. Since that trip, all of you had gotten together a few times for other trips or just for a meal and a laugh. When Frank and Billy were deployed again, you and Karen sent care packages and kept in touch with them. It felt natural. 

Karen got your attention as she came through with a box.

“I’m taking these clothes upstairs. Wanna stop for lunch soon?”

You agreed as you broke down the box you had been pulling stuff out of for the bookshelf. As you opened the next box, your phone started to ring in your pocket. When you looked at the screen, you saw Billy’s contact on there and answered immediately.

“Hey Billy,” you greeted as you started to pull the books out for the bookshelf.

When his voice came through, it was obvious he was calling from his car.

“Hey, uh, you and Karen unpacking?”

“Yeah, about to stop for lunch though. What’s up?”

He didn’t say anything at first which made you stop unloading the box. You stood up and turned as if you expected to see him behind you, even though you could still hear the car in the background.

“Have you seen the news? From your old town.”

Your chest felt like it became a bit too tight at those words. The last time you’d heard a version of that, it was your dad calling to tell you about the execution.

“No.”

He sighed a bit which made you tense to the point where you had to turn to sit down on the chair nearest you.

“There was an attack in your town two nights ago. From what I know, it was…your childhood home.”

There was a moment where you were really glad you sat down because otherwise you think your legs would have given out. As your mind swirled, you tried to think of what to ask first.

You knew that Billy had looked into your story after you told him about it. Hearing your version of events made him want to see it from start to finish so he’d looked it up. There was still a lot of information on it, including the lack of any real motive.

“An attack?”

“The police were called to the house when they heard screams. The mom and a son were on an overnight field trip so it was just the dad and daughter in the house. By the time they got there, the dad and daughter had both been brutally murdered.”

You closed your eyes and remembered what it felt like to have someone break into your house with the intention of killing you.

“They were found in the finished basement on the floor.”

Suddenly it felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. Your mouth went dry as you thought about stepping into the basement den and finding your mom and brother. The healed scars felt like they were bleeding and even though it was impossible, you still reached into your shirt to see if there was any blood from the scar.

Nothing.

“Did they find who did it?”

“They were gone, but there was a note stabbed to the door. It just had a date on it.”

“What date?”

When Billy said the date that was on the note, you half expected it to be the date you had been attacked, but it wasn’t. It was only from a few years ago, so you didn’t think it had anything to do with what had happened, just a coincidence.

Until…

“Wasn’t that the date he was executed?”

You closed your eyes as you realized that Billy was right. It had been a while since you’d thought about the date, but thinking about it you were pretty sure that Billy was right.

“His uh, his last words were that he’d be back.”

“That’s impossible. He’s dead, there’s no way he can be back.”

You almost laughed because yes, you knew that. You knew that it was impossible, but that’s what he said either way. Instead you felt tears start to gather in your eyes as you settled more into the chair.

“I’d come by but I’m out of town. Maybe stay with Karen and Frankie tonight, okay? Just…I don’t think you’re in danger, but I still don’t think you should be alone.”

You nodded and wiped at your eyes.

“Thanks Billy. I’ll talk to Karen when she comes downstairs. I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later? Drive safely.”

“It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”

You hoped he was right but you didn’t know. Nothing felt right at the moment.

All you knew was as the call with Billy ended, you needed to call your dad to let him know about it. Once upon a time you thought that things were over, but not anymore. Now you were thinking things were just about to begin.

—

It was dark out as you made your way through the parking lot to where your car was parked. In the background you could hear your coworkers laughing as they headed to their own cars. A shouted invitation to join them at the bar came over, but you waved them off and promised next time.

Which you’d actually follow through with. It wasn’t like it had been before, where you kept to yourself at all times. You’d branched out, made friends, started working from the office just as much as you worked from home. You still kept certain things to yourself of course, a habit you were unable to break anytime soon, but you opened yourself up to people.

The car chirped as you unlocked it and slid into the front seat, immediately locking the doors again. As you started the car, you noticed something on your windshield. A folded piece of paper tucked under your windshield wiper. 

Carefully you leaned forward and leaned out of the window to pull the paper out of the wiper. It came free after a tug. Once settled back in the seat, you rolled the window back up and looked at the paper. You unfolded it and stared at it.

Did you miss me?

Your hands shook as you dropped the paper into your passenger seat. Then, without hesitation, you started towards the entrance to the parking lot. Your headlights went across someone in the distance but you didn’t even focus on them, just stepped on the gas to get out of the parking lot.

The person didn’t move at least, seen from the corner of your eye as you sped out. It was possible it wasn’t anyone to worry about, someone from the office or just someone passing by. 

As you headed to the freeway, you connected your bluetooth and dialed Karen’s number. It went to voicemail and you swore as you hung up. You were about to call her again when you hesitated. 

For some reason, you wanted to call Billy. So that’s what you did.

He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, what’s up? Leaving work?”

Your hands shook a bit as you navigated through the traffic on the street.

“I came out of work and there was a note on my windshield.”

“Okay. Did you…”

“I grabbed it,” you admitted as you drove around a slow driver in the fast lane. “I realize now that I shouldn’t have, that it could have been…but I grabbed it.”

“It sounds like you’re driving so at least nothing happened. What did it say?”

You glanced down at the paper in your passenger seat and then immediately back up to the road. 

“Did you miss me?”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed out, the connection distorting a bit from the force. “This isn’t good. I thought that whoever it was wouldn’t come all this way, but it sounds like maybe he did. Maybe you’re a target.”

Your chest felt tight as you pulled onto the street where you lived.

“I need to call to check on my dad. I’m almost home so I’ll call him when I get inside.”

“You don’t need to go to your place, not alone. Do you think Karen is home yet?”

“I tried to call Karen first,” you said as you drove past your house, your eyes on your rearview mirror just to check. “She didn’t answer so I called you.”

“That’s okay, never hesitate to call me if you need me. But for now, come to Anvil. Frank is there, I’ll let him know what’s going on. We’re gonna make sure you’re never alone until this guy is caught, okay?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. You knew the way to Anvil easily enough, but that didn’t stop your heart from thudding in your chest. Whether this guy was connected to the man who had done the original attacks or it was a copycat, it didn’t matter. Right now all that mattered was that you could be in danger.

“I need to call my dad,” you said again.

“I know, but stay on the phone with me for right now, okay? I don’t want something to happen to you while you’re out.”

You wished that you could close your eyes or burrow into yourself, but you had to focus on the road. Instead you lowered your voice a bit.

“I’m scared Billy.”

His sigh came through the phone so clear that it felt like he was in the car with you.

“I know. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

He couldn’t promise that, not really, but you didn’t say that. Instead you simply listened to the ambient noise of the connection all the way to Anvil. 

—

Your dad’s cell phone rang to the voicemail twice, but you didn’t stop. As you clicked it again, you looked over to where Frank and Billy were talking. Billy had gotten to Anvil a little bit before you did and had filled Frank in by time you got there. The two of them were discussing a plan, although you weren’t sure what for just yet.

All you cared about was getting in touch with your dad. He didn’t normally miss a call, not like this.

On the third time you called, the line was finally answered but it wasn’t your dad’s voice that greeted you.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hello...you have my dad’s phone. Who is this?”

The men turned to you when they heard what you had asked, both with concern on their faces.

“Hello miss. My name is Dr Roberts. Your father was brought in earlier this evening. He had been in a car accident.”

As he explained what had happened, you felt yourself sway. If you hadn’t already been sitting, you would have fallen over. Instead, as you were obviously struggling to focus on the words the doctor was saying, Frank came over and took the phone from you. He didn’t go far as he spoke, asking the questions you should have been asking.

“Hey. I’m right here.”

You blinked a few times and looked over to where Billy had knelt down in front of you, his hand in yours. You didn’t even notice him coming to your side or touching you. With a shake of your head, you looked over to where Frank was giving you a comforting head nod as he asked about hospital security.

“Oh god,” you breathed as you finally let yourself shake a bit. “My dad, he was in a car accident.”

“I know, but he’s okay. He’s in recovery and he’s going to be okay.”

Your eyes slammed shut as you tried to remember what the doctor had said before Frank had taken over.

“Earlier this evening. He had been in a car accident earlier this evening.”

Billy stared up at you. Then, with a glance over to Frank, he moved to sit next to you on the couch.

“He lives about thirty minutes away, right? Be enough time for the copycat to leave the note on your car and then go after your dad.”

Your hand contracted around Billy’s as you looked at the note that was on the table where you’d left it.

“There was someone in the parking lot when I got in the car. I didn’t see them very well, too far away and too desperate to leave. What if that was him? It’s not like he can be in two places at once.”

Saying that made your heart stutter in your chest as you remembered something. Something from so long ago that it had been buried.

“What is it?”

You looked over at Billy and then back to the note.

“The murders. The original murders. The only other night where two people died on the same night besides…” You let your words trail off, unable to mention your mom and brother right then. “It was never investigated and as much as I can remember, it was never talked about in the trial, but there had been speculation back then. The first murder that night was on the mainland and the second murder was on a little island. The newspapers said it should have been impossible for one person to cross that distance on the ferry in the time between murders, so they were looking for a boat that might have been used. But what if there wasn’t a boat? What if there were two murderers this whole time?”

Billy looked at the note and then over to Frank who was nodding as if he had heard. You caught a quick snippet of him telling the doctor that one of Anvil’s men would be there as soon as possible to provide extra security.

“If there were two murderers back then, then it isn’t a copycat. It’s a continuation.”

Your hands went around your stomach as if to hold you together, fingers seeking out those rigid scars under your top.

“Why me? Why my family? We never did anything to anyone.”

“It can be a fixation of finishing what was started. It can be the chase because you got away. Revenge because you got his partner killed. There’s a lot of reasons someone might keep going after you.”

You wanted to laugh, but the logic was important. You needed the reality of this before you lost yourself.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered as you stared down at your hands with tears in your eyes. “I want to see my dad.”

“We’ll take you,” Frank said as he passed you the phone, the screen showing the call had ended. “I’m going to pick up Karen and tell her what’s going on. Then we’ll take you to your dad.”

“Maybe we should wait,” Billy said as he stood up to face Frank. “Get Karen, get someone from Anvil to sit on her dad, but if we drag her out of the city, we can’t be sure that he won’t follow us and more people will get hurt. Here, we’re on our turf.”

As the men discussed the pros and cons of both plans, you let your hand go back to the scar. The fear that had gone through you that night in the basement den of your childhood home had started to come back, but as it rose, so did something else. A strength you never knew you had.

The strength to survive.

“I’m staying,” you said finally, cutting off their conversation. “If he wants to finish what he started, he can start with me. I’m not running again.”

Both men looked at you and you saw the pride in their eyes. Frank pulled out his phone.

“I’m going to get Karen. We’ll stick together. You and Bill should stick together too. We’ll come up with a plan to draw him out and we’ll end this.”

Your eyes went to Billy’s and found those dark eyes were already on yours.

“I’ll take you to my place. We’ll be safe there.”

This was it. The final standoff.

For years you’d thought you were safe, that the danger had been left behind you. Now, whatever happened, you knew it would really be over.

—

“Here, this will be more comfortable,” Billy explained as he handed you some of his clothes.

You hadn’t gone back to your place, unwilling to take the chance. Instead Billy had brought you straight to his over the top apartment and told you to make yourself at home.

You went into the bathroom to change, placing your clothes on the side of the sink where you could change back into them in the morning. As you stared at yourself in the mirror in Billy’s clothes, you felt your throat catch a bit.

Inch by inch you raised the shirt and looked at the scar on your stomach. Then, even though you had just put the shirt on, you pulled it off and held it to your chest as you turned. With your back facing the mirror, you looked over your shoulder and looked at the scars there.

You had felt the knife tear through your skin. The stitches hadn’t been nearly enough to keep the scars from being ugly, but you didn’t care anymore. Once upon a time they made you ashamed, but why should they? They meant you were a survivor.

A survivor.

“Hey, are you…”

Billy had knocked on the door and it came open fully since you hadn’t shut it all the way in your daze. He looked at your back in the mirror for a long moment before he met your eyes.

“Are you hungry? I was going to make dinner.”

You swallowed thickly as you looked down from his gaze in the mirror to the scars.

“They don’t bother you.”

It wasn’t asked, it was stated. When his gaze flickered away from the mirror, you turned to face him in the doorway. His eyes went down the scars on your stomach. The ones you had showed him that first night in the cabin after he had scared you. He walked towards you and reached out, slowly as if to let you move away if you wanted to.

You didn’t want to.

When those fingers touched your scar, you shivered but didn’t pull away. His eyes moved from the scar and landed on your face.

“We all have scars,” he said softly as his eyes dropped to your mouth. “Shows that you’re a survivor.”

A survivor. He had echoed the words you had thought right before he’d walked in.

“Billy,” you began but he shook his head.

“Later,” he promised as he leaned in and captured your lips with his.

Since you were going to ask if you could kiss him, you found yourself happy with this change of pace. The shirt was dropped to the floor. Chest bared, you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him closer. Even as his hand skimmed up your back and slowly touched the scars there, you didn’t pull away.

You were done pulling away.

Billy led you to the bedroom. As you pulled your pants and underwear off, Billy beat the record to pull his clothes off as well. His shirt was already on the floor and while he worked on his pants, you caught the scars on his shoulder and side. 

Your fingers went to the ones on his shoulder first, tracing over them. Then you touched the one low on his side.

“What are these from?”

Billy placed his hand over yours as you touched the one on his side.

“I’ll tell you all about them. After,” he added as he leaned in to kiss you again. 

You smiled against his lips, unable to help yourself. It wasn’t like you’d never thought about kissing Billy. In fact you’d thought about it a lot, even that first night when he’d scared you nearly to death. There had always been some sort of attraction between the two of you, something you never dwelled on because you hadn’t been interested in making things awkward between the two of you.

Although now you didn’t think that it would be very awkward. Something told you that Billy was just as interested as you were. 

Instead of focusing on the scars on either of you, you decided to focus on Billy and the way he was making you feel. 

There’d be time to talk later.

—

Billy wasn’t in the apartment when you woke up, but a note on the table said that he had to run to Anvil and would pick up breakfast on his way back. You had smiled at the note and folded it to put into your pocket. You were stupidly enamored by that man.

As you went over to the coffee pot that looked like it belonged in a spaceship, you heard your phone ring from your purse on the coffee table. With the reminder that your dad was in the hospital, you rushed over and grabbed it.

It was him. You immediately answered.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“Hey kiddo,” your dad answered, his voice drowsy and laced with pain. “Finally awake enough to call. Wanted to hear your voice. The goon at the door said you’d called and talked to the doctor.”

“Dad.” Your voice broke as you slumped onto the couch. “Dad, you…do you remember what happened? Who did it?”

There was silence for a long moment before your dad sighed, the noise a bit strangled as he wheezed.

“I only saw him for a split second, but I’d recognize it anywhere. I thought I was seeing things.” You listened as he shifted, the bed crinkling him under him loud enough for you to hear over the phone. “He came by when I was in the car. I think he thought I was dead or maybe unconscious, but I heard his voice. I heard him tell me it was about time.”

You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around you as tight as you could. 

“I had a letter on my windshield last night. It asked me if I missed him. I don’t think it’s a copycat dad. I think that he was involved in the original murders.”

The slow beeps from the phone was the only way you knew the call hadn’t failed. Then your dad finally spoke.

“I think you’re right. I don’t know why, but I agree.”

At least you were all on the same page with that.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming call and you checked it to see that it was Billy. After you told your dad you’d call him back in a bit, you switched over to talk to him.

“Hey, is everything okay at Anvil?”

“You’re still at the apartment, right? You didn’t leave.”

You looked around for some reason and then sat up a bit straighter.

“Yeah, I’m still here. What happened?”

There was a lot going on in the background in the call and you strained your ears enough to pick up a few words. By things you could hear, Billy was near a bunch of cops.

“There was another murder. Your next door neighbor, Melinda Geillis.”

You knew Melinda well enough, the two of you often talked in the elevators or hallway. You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head.

“Are we sure it was him?”

Billy said something quietly to someone nearby and then it was quiet on the other side of the phone.

“Her throat was slit and then she was dragged into your apartment and propped up on your couch like she was watching television.”

The memory of your brother’s body flashed before your eyes. Yeah, that was him. 

“There’s a note here too. It says ‘sorry I missed you’.”

You flinched at that. Then your hand went to your pocket where Billy’s note was. The feel of the paper comforted you a bit.

“Dad said he saw him, recognized the outfit from the night of the attack. He also said he heard his voice. The guy came by after the accident and was taunting my dad, either because he thought he was dead or thought he wouldn’t hear. He said it was about time.”

Billy swore through his teeth. You could almost picture his face as he absorbed that information.

“We’re gonna catch this guy, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you or to your dad. Not again.”

You let out a breath and then slumped against the couch a bit.

“How’d you find out anyway? I mean, if it was in my apartment, you’d think I would have heard about it first.”

“I was driving by and saw the police presence,” Billy explained softly as someone came through the room he was in, talking about taking pictures. “I asked what happened and they let me know. I’ve worked with enough local law enforcement so they let me up. The detective in charge is going to call you, but…I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

You laughed a bit as you reached up to rub at your eyes.

“Thank you Billy. Really.”

“I’ll come pick you up and bring you to the station so we can coordinate with the locals. Just stay inside and keep the door locked, okay? There’s a spare gun in the safe; the combination is 7895.”

You looked over at the safe, but didn’t make moves to go get it. You weren’t big on guns.

“I’ll see you shortly Billy. Thanks again.”

When the call was over, you leaned back and wrapped your arms around your legs. It had been such a long morning already and you’d only been awake for an hour. 

At some point this would be over, wouldn’t it? One way or another.

—

The police station wasn’t a place you’d spent a lot of time since you’d come to the city. Once upon a time, in the little seaside town you’d grown up in, you’d been in the police station a lot. Not for any nefarious reasons of course, simply because your dad had worked for the force. You’d gotten comfortable in police stations.

Now though? You had to admit that you were very uneasy. It wasn’t the people themselves of course, they were just your run of the mill law enforcement officers. No, you were uneasy because of the reason you were there.

Billy had suggested that you not see the pictures from the crime scene, but you reminded him that you had lived through it once. 

It was like seeing a ghost. Your neighbor’s body was propped up in a mirror of your brother’s, down to the television being on in front of her and playing the news. You tried not to stare into her lifeless eyes, but in the close up picture your only other option was to look at the gash across her neck.

There had been a struggle. She had fought hard.

After some questions and rehashing the details with the police, you were led to the front lobby to leave, but Billy doubled back to coordinate coverage at your dad’s hospital room. While he did that, you called your dad to let him know what was going on.

“You gotta leave the city,” your dad said sternly. “I don’t want to lose you. You need to leave, you need to get somewhere this maniac will never find you.”

“Dad, I can’t leave. Look what happened when I stayed somewhere else for one night? Who knows what will happen if–”

“Hey, they said we can head out whenever,” Billy called as he approached. He nodded to where your phone was against your ear, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just my dad. Hey dad, I’ve got to–”

Your name from your dad made you pause what you were saying, only slightly annoyed by being interrupted again. Something in your dad’s voice made you stop speaking, stop breathing. There was terror in his voice.

“Who is that? With you right now. Who is with you?”

You looked over at Billy who was frowning in concern.

“It’s my friend Billy, the one I’ve told you about? He’s the one that brought me to the police station after what happened at my apartment.”

There was a long pause that made you a little antsy.

“You need to get away from him right now. You need to get out of there. Immediately.”

“Dad–”

“Stop. Don’t let him know, but leave. Go back into the station, stay with them. Get away from him. That’s the voice I heard after my accident.”

You swallowed thickly as you heard those words, your eyes going from Billy to the door he had just come through. You could see police officers moving around through the glass door. From the peripheral you could see Billy watching you, barely making out the concern still on his face as you stood a little straighter.

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t be one hundred percent sure, not over a phone, but it sounds just like him. Please, get away from him.”

With your eyes closed, you listened to your dad plead with you while you remembered the way that Billy had touched you the night before. Was it possible? Was it possible that Billy was this person that was tormenting you? Killing people?

The things you knew about Billy told you that anything was possible. 

You nodded and then made a noise like you were listening to your dad as you reached and patted yourself, as if looking for something.

“Billy, can you check and see if I left my wallet in the interview room,” you said with a glance over at him. “I don’t want to see the pictures again but I think I left my wallet in there.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod and a brief touch to your arm.

When he disappeared behind the door to head back to the interview room, you grabbed your wallet out of your pocket and nearly ran from the police station. On the road you found a cab that was thankfully letting someone out of the door at the same time that you’d gotten there, so you simply slid right in. Then you thought about where to go.

After you gave the address to the hospital your dad was at, you glanced over your shoulder to the door of the police station. Right as the cab started to pull away from the curb, you saw Billy step out and look around. You didn’t know if he saw you or not, but you settled back into your seat and let out a sigh.

“I’m headed to you dad,” you said softly. “I don’t know if you’re right, I don’t see how Billy could…but I’m on my way.”

You had no idea how to explain what your dad may or may not have heard. You couldn’t imagine that Billy was the one that had done those things. How would he have even been involved?

But you remembered that every time something had happened, Billy had been gone. He’d been on the road after the attacks back home, he’d been out when the note had been left on your car and your dad had been hit, he’d been out when your neighbor was attacked.

Was it possible that billy wasn’t who you thought he was? Was it possible that you’d slept with someone you shouldn’t have trusted?

The mere thought made your stomach turn.

—

The officer at the door was a bit confused when you told him not to let an Anvil employee watch the door alone, but he reluctantly agreed without you explaining why. He was agreeable otherwise.

Your dad looked rough, but he smiled tightly when you came into the room. His eyes cut to the door and then back to you as you shut it behind you.

“His men were out there, weren’t they? Are they still?”

“Not right now,” you said as you went over to his side to grab his hand. “I still don’t know for sure, but if that’s what you heard, then I have to trust you.”

Your dad winced as he leaned closer to you, his hand tight on yours. 

“We can’t stay here. From what I’ve been able to tell, he has a lot of pull with the locals.”

“Dad, you can’t go anywhere. Look at you, you’re barely able to sit up right now. I can’t lug you around, I’m not strong enough for that.”

Your dad closed his eyes and nodded slowly. 

“So you need to go somewhere else. Somewhere without telling anyone. Once you’re gone, I’ll talk to a detective about my theory and we’ll have him looked into.”

You shook your head as he spoke.

“No, I can’t leave without you,” you cried as you hugged him, gently to keep from hurting him. “If something happened to you while I was gone, it would kill me. I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll be safe here until I’m able to get out myself. I’ll call a friend to come sit with me for a while. You’re my only concern, you’re my priority.”

You wiped your tears off your cheeks as you pulled back a bit. With a sniffle you glanced over at the door to see the back of the cop’s head as he pulled his phone to his ear. As he nodded and looked over his shoulder at you, you felt something cold wash over you.

“I have to go now. I think Billy’s trying to find out if I’m here.”

“Then go sweetheart. Do you remember the plan for Tallahassee?”

The codeword made you shake a bit. It was picked after your mom and brother had been killed as it’s where your mom had originally been from. If something ever happened and you and your dad had to run off, you’d go to a location that was a secret between the two of you. Far away from Tallahassee, but it was a word that could be used even in front of others without being discovered.

You really hoped you never had to use it.

“One week and then I’ll head to Tallahassee,” you said as you stood up and wiped tears from your eyes again. “Then when you’re better, you can join me.”

“One week for us both, whether or not I’m feeling better.” 

The old man was stubborn. You laughed a bit as you leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then the forehead.

“I love you dad,” you said as you placed another kiss on his forehead.

“I love you too kiddo,” he repeated as he squeezed your hand. “Go. Get out of here and be safe.”

That’s all that there was to it. And now you needed to figure out where to go to wait out the week.

You’d need to stop at some ATMs to get money out so that you wouldn’t leave a trail. Something told you that Billy would use whatever resources he had to find you and you weren’t going to give him that chance.

—

The man at the front desk of the motel didn’t even look at your ID or anything else as you pushed the cash over for the week. He simply counted the bills and then handed you the key.

“Ice machine doesn’t work, vending machines are on the first floor, pool is closed for now.”

You tucked the rest of your money into your waller and palmed the key, mumbling a thanks to him as you turned and walked out of the office. Your room was on the second floor so you made it up the stairs with the crinkle of the grocery bags you carried your freshly bought clothes in. At room 17, you put the key into the lock and turned it. It stuck a bit but came open after that.

“Home sweet home,” you muttered as you dropped the grocery bags onto the bed. 

You’d bought some clothes and some other necessities on your way out of the city. Here you were, about six hours from the city, settling into a motel that didn’t even have a sign to tell you the name.

At some point you’d need to go to the vending machines and get a few snacks. Maybe try to find a local grocery store where you could get some nonperishable items. There was a microwave in the room and a mini-fridge. More like a mini-mini-fridge, but whatever.

You felt naked without your cell phone, but you definitely knew that you could be tracked with that, so you’d left it at the hospital. 

With a sigh you sat on the bed and grimaced a bit at the hardness of the mattress. Not exactly comfortable, but you’d make do. If it meant not losing your life, you’d lose some comfort. The remote was next to the bed so you grabbed it and turned the television on, turning the volume down a good deal just in case. You never trusted these places. 

One channel surf later you landed on the news. It touched on a bunch of national stuff before it narrowed in to local and you waited to see if anything would come up about the killer. It never came.

After the news cycled over to some infomercials, you grabbed some money and left your room, locking it behind you. You checked your surroundings carefully before you headed down the stairs to the vending machine.

There were only about five cars in the parking lot besides yours. You looked over each and tried to commit them to memory before you stepped into the alcove where the vending machines were. You grabbed a bottle of water and an energy drink from one and then some chips and some chocolate from the other. Hands full, you stepped out of the alcove and looked around on your way to the stairs.

Six cars.

You stopped where you were and stared at the new car, a nondescript dark colored sedan. Between the distance and the darkness, you couldn’t tell if there was anyone in the car. They were parked in front of the office though, so it was possible that it was another person here just to get a room. It wasn’t far off the beaten track from the interstate so maybe they found it the same way you did.

With a deep inhale, you held your breath and ran up the stairs. You had to juggle the items in your hands to get your key back out and back into the room. It didn’t stick this time so you were able to get in and shut it behind you in mere seconds, locking it and the chain behind you.

Then you pulled the chair from the corner and pushed it in front of the door.

Once that was done you put your items down on the dresser and moved further into the room. The bathroom was open so you could see into it clearly, but you turned on the light and looked around just in case. Even checked behind the shower curtain. Then you checked the half closet which wasn’t really big enough to hold a grown man.

You looked under the bed but there was a trundle bed so not enough room for someone to fit.

Satisfied that the room was empty besides yourself, you went over to the window and peered out. The angle you had didn’t allow you to see much, but you could see your car at least. 

Tomorrow you’d head out to a nearby grocery or convenience store to get what you needed for the rest of the week. Once you were through the week and could head to the meeting place with your dad, things would be fine. You’d be safe again.

You still couldn’t believe that Billy was the one doing this to you. Part of you refused to believe it, the part that had had sex with him and laid in his arms the whole night. The rest of you had more questions than you had answers and when faced with the unknown, you had to rely on what you could put together. Your dad had said he couldn’t be certain but felt it was a close enough similarity to demand you leave and save yourself.

That night when you curled up on the hard as hell mattress, the thin blanket pulled over your body and the television providing light into the room, you weren’t sure you’d ever fall asleep. Not with how your brain was on turbo mode.

But you were able to finally fall asleep somewhere after two in the morning.

—

The third night at the motel had been as uneventful as the other two. You had gotten some food at a nearby convenience store so you didn’t have to rely on vending machine snacks. You also got a deck of cards so you could play solitaire with yourself to waste time.

The news still didn’t say anything about what was happening, but you had to imagine there were constant murders in the city so maybe it didn’t make the radar yet. You didn’t know how many more deaths it would take for it to hit the news cycle but you hoped it didn’t get to that.

As you crossed the room to do your hourly check of the window, you wondered what everyone else was doing. Your dad, Karen, Frank…even Billy.

Since you’d been in the motel, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about Billy. Thinking about him being the killer, thinking about it all being a miscommunication. The more you thought about him, the less you felt certain one way or another.

As you stared out the window, you checked the parts of the parking lot that you could see and then looked over to where your car was parked. As you looked at it, you noticed someone walking past your car and towards the office. It was dark so you couldn’t make out who the person was, but you traced their steps back to see if there was another car nearby that they had come out of.

There was a truck not far from your car that was in line with the path they were taking, but it had been there since yesterday. 

You looked at the chair in front of your door and made sure it was still pressed against the door. This way at least you knew you would have a warning if someone tried to get into the room while you were there.

Back on the bed you grabbed the cards and shuffled them a bit. It was time for more solitaire. You really wished you’d grabbed something else, anything else at this point. It was hard to go without a phone to spend your time, but you were making do. 

A noise outside made you look over to the window with the blinds down. A streetlight let a little light in and you stared at it for a long time until you watched a little darkness move over the window. Someone was walking past your window towards your door.

You held your breath and waited. When you heard the door beside yours open, you let it out with a sigh. It was another person staying in the hotel.

Without winning the current game of solitaire, you turned off the light and stacked the cards on the bedside table. You had a flashlight that you’d gotten at the convenience store that you kept nearby as you curled up on the bed, your eyes on the window and door. When no sounds came to you, no change in the minimal light that trickled through, you felt yourself drift off to sleep.

A dream came to you then, while you dozed in and out. A darkness seemed to pour into the room from the ceiling, like a shadow but more solid. The darkness seemed to melt and shift along the lines of the ceiling, never fully there as you stared up at it.When you woke up, it was with your back to the window and door, a blank wall in front of you. The first thing you did was look up to the ceiling but there were no shadows moving around.

You rolled over to your other side and immediately checked the window, but nothing had changed. It was still dark out there, still a slight amount of light pouring through the window. You blinked lazily and rubbed your eyes before you looked at the door to check that the chair was still there.

It wasn’t. It was in the corner now and someone was in it.

You sat up and opened your mouth to scream, but it didn’t come out as the occupant leaned forward and was lit up by the incoming light stream.

Billy.

“How’d you find me?”

There was a beat of silence as he nodded then sat back so that he disappeared a bit from your sight. 

“It wasn’t easy. You really tried to drop off the grid. It’s my job to be able to find people though.”

“Yeah,” you said uneasily as you shrank back in the bed a bit, your legs pulling to your chest and bracing just in case you needed to jump up. “How’d you get in here without making a noise? The chair…”

“Took some maneuvering. I figured you’d do something like that.”

You blinked and tried to nod a bit. Of course he’d know how to get through your defenses. You should have known.

“What are you going to do to me?”

It was quiet for a long moment before Billy leaned forward again to look at you. You wished you could see whatever emotions were in those dark eyes, but from this distance the dark brown was pitch black and it made you feel hunted.

“Why would I do anything to you? I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Safe. You’d heard the word a lot, but it had been a long time since you felt it. And right then, with Billy sitting in a chair across the room, you didn’t know if safe is what you felt at all.

What was the next step? Did you confront him for who you suspected he was? Did you wait for him to prove you right or wrong? 

“Why didn’t you let me protect you? I could have gotten you and your dad somewhere safe. Then maybe…”

You watched as he looked away from you, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Maybe what?”

He looked over at you and shook his head.

“You left your phone at the hospital so you hadn’t heard. The killer broke into the hospital, somehow got through the security we had on your dad. He survived, got a few stab wounds, but the killer took down two of my men and a police officer.”

You felt sick. Your body bowed in and you pressed your face into your knees as you thought about it. At least your dad was alive, but being stabbed on top of already suffering from the car accident couldn’t be good. 

“He’s alive. He’ll stay alive,” Billy said as a hand came down to rest on your shoulder.

You jerked backwards as he touched you, body nearly falling off the bed as you tried to get away from the touch. When you looked up and met his concerned gaze, you couldn’t help the pitiful laugh that came from you.

“What will it take? What do I have to do?”

Your stomach rolled as you thought about what he might say.

“What are you talking about?”

At some point tears had started to flow down your cheeks as you stared up at Billy. His hand on your shoulder, the scent of the cologne that he always wore, it made you feel lost in memories you couldn’t afford to be lost in.

“He heard your voice. The day of his accident, he heard the killer and when he heard your voice at the police station, he said it was you.”

Billy’s hand fell to his side as he stared down at your crumpled form.

“My voice? So you…what, think I’m the other murderer? This whole time. Even from when you were in high school?”

You closed your eyes for a long moment and then shook your head.

“I don’t…I don’t know Billy. He said he heard you. And every time there was a murder, you weren’t with someone who could account for your whereabouts. What am I supposed to think?”

He crossed his arms and took a few steps back to lean against the wall across from you.

“I’ve killed before. More than a few times and not all of them deserved it. But I never killed anyone stateside that I didn’t have to.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stared at Billy.

“He heard you Billy. He recognized your voice.”

“He had a concussion. Maybe he heard something, someone, but how could he be sure it was me? Especially since the second time was just over the phone.”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes as you stared up at him.

“I can’t take the chance Billy. I can’t take the chance that you’re someone who wants to hurt me.”

“I could never hurt you,” Billy swore as he walked closer to you. Then he shook his head as he turned away. “But you’re right. You can’t take the chance. If I’d known this was your worry, I never would have come here.”

He got to the door and right as you thought about telling him not to leave, to ask him to talk the rest of this through with you, he opened the door and things happened so quickly after that.

A masked man stood on the other side of the door. The moment it came open, he raised his knife and brought it down hard into Billy’s shoulder. You screamed and shoved yourself up and off the bed, body stuck between going to the door and further away. 

You grabbed Billy and pulled him back, body slamming against the door to try to close it. Billy threw his body weight into it too, wincing as the shoulder with the blood pouring through it slammed against the wood. The two of you got the door slammed shut but you still didn’t move.

“Believe me now?” Billy asked through gritted teeth as he moved around you to peer through the peephole. “He’s not there. He’ll come back though.”

You nodded as you tried to get your brain to get back on path. While Billy kept his body against the door, you grabbed a washcloth from the dresser and pressed it hard against his shoulder to stem the blood flow.

“What are we going to do?”

Billy accepted the cloth and held it against his shoulder. With his free hand he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife which he pressed into your hands. As you were about to ask what he was going to use, he pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and checked that it was ready..

“We need to make a run for the car. We can call the cops once we’re on the road.”

You nodded and grabbed your wallet from the dresser and shoved it into the pocket of your sweats. There was nothing else here that you needed to make sure you had. Prepared, you grabbed Billy’s uninjured shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I should go first.”

“I don’t care if I was missing an arm. You’re not going first,” Billy said through gritted teeth as he shoved the cloth under his jacket. Then he moved to tuck you behind him. “You stay at my back, okay? Keep the knife up and let me know if I need to turn and shoot. Are you ready?”

No. 

“Yeah,” you breathed as you stood at his side.

He went out first and looked both directions a few times before he motioned for you to follow him. He gestured to keep you close to him. You stepped out and didn’t bother shutting the door as the two of you headed to the stairs. As you made your way past the front office, you noticed blood sprayed on the wall behind where the man had sat at the computer.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as you kept as close to Billy as you could.

“Eyes forward baby, we can’t wait. We’re almost there.”

He was leading you to his car, not yours. You looked behind the two of you to see if someone was out there, aware of what was going on, but you saw nothing. Heard nothing but the pounding of your heart between your ears.

At the car, Billy unlocked it and tugged you to go to the passenger door. As you reached out, you saw something from the corner of your eye.

“BILLY!”

He spun you around and thrust himself between the two of you, his gun raised at the man that had been running at you. He stopped, his knife still raised. The eerie black mask tilted this way and that as he stared at the two of you.

“You can’t win. Gun beats knife.”

“I don’t have to win. I just have to take one of you down with me.”

That voice. It sounded similar to Billy’s, enough that if you’d heard it you might think the same thing. But you didn’t dwell on that as you watched the man launch himself forward at the two of you. The gun went off and the attacker faltered, but he kept on running. When his body ran into Billy’s and shoved you against the car, you heard the gun skitter to the asphalt. 

As the attacker stabbed the knife into Billy’s side again, the moan of pain coming from the man you were trying to hold up, you realized that you didn’t have a choice. You had to lean around Billy to do what you needed to.

The knife went straight into the attacker’s bicep first. Then you pulled it out and swung out, harder this time. As it went into the attacker’s neck, Billy reached up and took hold of your wrist and thrusted it in harder. The attacker’s scream echoed through the emptyish parking lot, you stepped around Billy and pulled the knife out before you plunged it in again. 

Billy’s hand didn’t leave your wrist as you thrusted the knife into the man’s neck and chest, over and over. When the attacker fell, you almost went with him just to keep going, but Billy wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you up.

“He’s gone,” Billy said into your ear as he held you tight. “He’s gone. You can stop.”

You closed your eyes for a long moment before you looked at the body slumped at your feet. He was gone. He was gone and this was over.

The knife fell to the ground next, clattering loudly as it bounced a bit. Your eyes burned as you stared at the man who had tried once more to end your life.

“Who…”

Billy squeezed your hip and then bent down. You shook your head because you didn’t know where Billy’s wounds were but you were worried he would hurt himself worse than he already was. You followed him down, hands immediately on his sides to check his injuries.

“No, no, stop,” he said as he pushed your hands away for a second. “We need to…”

He reached out for the man’s mask but you grabbed his wrist and stopped him. When he pulled his hand away, you reached out for the mask yourself.

The man under it was completely nondescript. You weren’t sure that you’d ever seen him before in your life, not here or back home. He looked like any man you may have passed on the street a thousand times.

“I don’t know who that is,” you said as you stared at him.

“He’s dead. That’s who he is.”

You slumped on the ground next to the car. When Billy passed his cell phone to you, you immediately dialed 911. Billy needed an ambulance. And this needed to be put to an end immediately.

As the dispatcher answered, you remembered the first time you’d made this call. Instead of staring at the death of your mom and brother, you were staring at Billy’s bleeding body and his tired eyes.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance and a lot of cops. We were just attacked by a known serial killer and we had to kill him to defend ourselves.”

Billy smiled with pride at you as he reached out to grab your hand in his.

—

The room your dad was in was a different one this time, but you found it easily enough. When you walked in, your dad was talking to the nurse quietly. She smiled and waved at you as she turned to leave, giving you the space to nearly climb into your dad’s bed to hug him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you mumbled softly as you tucked your face into his neck.

His arms went around you and you noticed one arm didn’t have the same strength as the other. Still, he didn’t let you go for a long time.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” your dad finally said as you pulled away. “If I hadn’t accused Billy, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“We can’t think about what might have happened,” you said as you grabbed his hand to hold it tight in yours.

The injuries from the accident were mostly healed but now your dad had the knife wounds to heal from. The doctors promised that he would make a full recovery and that it wouldn’t hold him back any. 

“I’m just glad it’s over. That you’re safe.”

You sat with that for a long moment. As terrified as you had been for so long, even before you knew there was someone out to get you, it had been so hard to feel safe. Your memories and nightmares kept you on the edge, even when you were supposed to be safe.

The only times those memories and nightmares stopped were when you were with Billy. 

“When he’s better, I want to meet Billy. I want to apologize in person. He deserves that much.”

You glanced at your dad and then back down to your clasped hands. 

“If I hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have been hurt. I should have talked to him, heard him out instead of just running.”

Your dad squeezed your hand until you looked up at him.

“It’s not your fault. I told you to leave. You listened to me.” 

“I’m an adult dad, I could have stood up for myself at any point. I believed you because I think part of me didn’t trust Billy but I should have.”

You knew things about Billy and Frank, things that made it a little easier to believe that he would. Although knowing those things, you shouldn’t have assumed anything. You knew Billy better than that. At least you should have.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he told me he never wanted to see me again.”

You tugged on the fabric of your scrub pants, provided by a nurse at some point. The police had gathered your clothes for evidence since they had been drenched in blood. Mostly Billy’s.

“Kiddo, from what I’ve seen and heard since all of this happened, that man isn’t going to turn away just because of some stabs. He moved heaven and earth to find you when you ran off. The only other reason for him to do that besides being the killer is because he cares.”

You laughed and shook your head, but didn’t say anything. Instead you moved to lean into your dad’s arms once more.

“It’s all going to be okay sweetheart. It’s over.”

He was right, it was all over. It was going to be okay.

Somehow.

—

The room Billy was in was on a different floor. When you knocked on the door, his voice called out that you could enter. He was sitting up on the bed, a tablet in his hands as he looked through it. When he looked up, he seemed surprised to see you. 

“Hey,” you said slowly, drawing the word out a lot longer than it needed to. “I don’t have to stay or anything, I just wanted to check on you.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he put the tablet down to the side.

“Why wouldn’t you stay?”

You shifted a bit before you took two steps into the room.

“You wouldn’t be in that bed if it wasn’t for me. Plus the whole, you know, thinking you were a serial killer thing.”

Billy laughed which surprised you. He gestured you over to him and after you glanced over at the chair a few feet away, he made a soft ‘tsk’ sound before he patted the bed beside him. 

As you sat down on the very edge of the bed, Billy made that noise again and tugged you to him. You immediately froze and checked to make sure you hadn’t landed on any of the bandages on his chest, but he shook his head when he could tell what you were looking for.

“I’ve had worse,” he said as he put his hand over the bandage on his side.

“Billy, I–”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘understand that this wasn’t my fault’ then I’m not sure I want to hear them.”

“It was my fault though. If I hadn’t left without even talking to you, hadn’t thought you were the killer, you wouldn’t have had to come find me. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Fingers under your chin made you move your head until you met Billy’s dark eyes. 

“Given the chance, I would always put my body between you and danger. Whether or not you thought I was the danger. And in the end, you know I wasn’t involved.” After a beat of silence, he narrowed his eyes and gave you a small smirk. “You do know that I wasn’t involved, don’t you?”

You laughed and leaned into the hand on your face a little.

“If this was a movie or something, it might not mean that you were uninvolved. But this isn’t a movie, it’s real life. So no, I don’t still think you were involved.”

Billy laughed and released your chin but only so that he could reach down and run his fingers over your wrist a bit.

“I’m just glad that nothing happened to you. It would have…I don’t think I could have handled it if something would have happened to you while you were running from me.”

You didn’t want to think about that either. Billy being there had been a fluke, it should have just been you against him. That made you look at his bandages once more.

“It feels wrong somehow that you and dad got hurt this time but I didn’t. I’m glad that Frank and Karen had gotten out of town and were safe, but I came out of this without a scratch on me and both of you had been attacked.”

“I like to think of it as cosmic karma.” At your confused look, Billy explained. “The last time, you were the one that went through it all. You saw the dead bodies of your mom and brother, you got chased around the basement, you’re the one that had to fight for your life, you’re the one that still wears the scars. In more ways than one. So this time, we were able to take that for you. We can bear those for you.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he wiped the tears away. You sniffled and wiped at your face as you looked away from a long moment, gathering your thoughts.

“Do you think…”

You didn’t know how to continue the thought. When you didn’t, Billy called your name. As you looked up, he leaned forward until he could press his mouth against yours.

“Karen and Frank will be happy about this development at least,” he said as he pressed his forehead against yours. “They’ve been telling me to get over my hesitation and ask you out for a while. I just wanted to give you space until you were ready.”

With a laugh you raised your hand and pulled Billy back in for another kiss.

It had been a tough few years since the original murders. Safety had been hard to come by. Since then you had kept yourself caged and terrified the whole time. It had been hard to make connections with people over the last few years. But now? Even before the encounter in the parking lot with you killing the man who had tormented you.

Now you were thinking it was time for you to live your life once more. You smiled and leaned back between kisses to mutter two words to Billy.

“I’m ready.”

X

She pulled out a chain, a tiny sand-timer dangling from the bottom.  Looping it around my neck, she looked me in the eyes.  “This is a Time Turner, allowing you to travel back in time.  You’ll need to return to the year 1945,” she told me.  “There is a young man there by the name of Tom Riddle.”  She looked back to where the battle had taken place, the sound increasing.  “He will become Lord Voldemort.”  Her gaze turned back to me, holding a shine of sternness, as well as concern.  “You need to go back and change him for the better.  It will save many lives.”

“Professor, I can’t-”

“You must, Miss King.  There are no other options.”

“But why me, Professor?”

She regarded me for a few moments.  “You will know, dear.”  Her eyes dropped to the time turner.  “The protection charm around that has been taken off, allowing you to go back more than five hours.  Take it and turn it backwards fifty times.  That should take you back to the right year.”

The noise got louder.

The Headmistress turned to me.  “Hurry, dear.”

I nodded, grabbing the time turner.  I began to spin it, counting up to fifty.  Once done, I looked up, staring at the castle wall in front of me.

It was similar to the wall I had been in front of before, though this wall was intact and clearly newer.  It possessed less scratches and burn marks.

Students walked past me and I quickly realized I stood out like a sore thumb.

Muttering a quiet “multicorfors” I waved my wand over my garments, making them look appropriate to the time period.  I stuffed my wand back in my robe, looking around.

Where to start?

A group of students walked by me.

I quietly slipped into step a few paces behind them, looking around casually in an attempt to not seem like I was obviously following them.

They unknowingly led me into the Great Hall, sitting down at their tables.

I stopped in the doorway, looking around for the Gryffindor table.  Spotting students wearing red ties, I strode over, trying not to seem suspicious.  Sitting down, my gaze raked over the room.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were behind me, the Slytherin table in front.

I scanned the Slytherin table for anyone that looked suspicious or evil.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I frowned, about to pause my search to eat, when my eyes landed on a boy seated amongst the Slytherins.

He was sitting up straight, talking with the people around him.  He had a lean figure, dark hair that fell over his forehead on one side and features that looked- at least from where I was sitting- like the perfect blend of soft and hard.

I stared at the boy for a few moments, completely sucked into his demeanor and appearance.

He was talking to the people around him, looking at one of his housemates.  His expression shifted slightly and he lifted his eyes, his focus landing almost instantly on me.

“-looking at?”

I whipped my head to the side to face the girl sitting next to me, grateful for the interruption.  My cheeks coloured slightly, no matter how much I tried to fight it.  “Me?  Nothing, I was just-” my eyes, quite without me telling them to, drifted back to the Slytherin table for only a fraction of a second.

They didn’t even have enough time to focus on anything.

“I have an idea…” one of the girls, sitting across from the other, said.  She smirked as she stabbed something with her fork.

“What?”  I recoiled.  “I was just getting used to my surroundings,” I said.

It was technically half true.

“I thought I didn’t recognize you,” the other girl said.  “Are you new to Hogwarts?”

I paused.  “Yeah.”

“What year are you,” she questioned.

“Seventh year.”

“It is a bit unusual for someone to join Hogwarts so late in their schooling,” the other said.

I cleared my throat.  “Well, I was transferred from a different school…..” I trailed off before quickly introducing myself.

“Nice to meet you, King.  My name is Margaret,” the girl sitting diagonally from me spoke.  She nodded her head to the girl sitting next to me.  “This is Joan.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Joan greeted.

I nodded.  “The pleasure is mine.”

“Class will be starting soon…” Margaret informed.  “Do you have your books?”

I faltered.  “Uh…no, I-I don’t.”

“You can borrow ours,” Joan assured.  She nodded her head at the brunette across from her.  “Margaret and I always sit next to each other.  You could sit with one of us, if you wish.”

My eyebrows furrowed.  “How many students can sit at a desk?”

“Two.”

I turned my head to Margaret.

She went on.  “You can sit with Joan.  I will find another seat.”

“Oh!  No- I can’t.”  I lifted my hands.  “I would hate to split you two up.”  I shifted my gaze between them.  “Is there an empty desk behind you?”

“There is.”

“Then I’ll sit there.”  I shrugged.  “No worries.”

They gave me confused looks.

I frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“You…” Margaret trailed off.

“You say things in a most unusual way, King,” Joan said.

I pursed my lips.

Oh yeah.

“I… apologize,” I said, though it sounded more like a question.

They smiled.

“Come.  Let’s head to class.”

I followed their lead, standing with them.

A lot of other students were rising to their feet as well, presumably also heading to their classes.

My gaze drifted once again to the Slytherin table, seeing the boy already standing, scanning the crowd.

His eyes met mine again.

I quickly snapped my head back towards my classmates, wincing slightly at the pain my neck had received for it.  Following their lead, I stubbornly kept my gaze intentional, only allowing it to drift to the halls of the school, so familiar and yet so strange.

“Our first class is Potions,” Margaret informed.

I grimaced behind her back, quickly wiping the expression away when Joan turned around to face me.

“It is taught by Professor Slughorn,” she added.

I nodded, taking in the information.

The girls pushed the door open, stepping through.

“We usually sit here,” Margaret informed, gesturing at a desk in the middle of the room.  She turned to me.  “Are you certain you would not prefer to sit with one of us?”

I nodded.  “Positive.  I’ll just sit behind you.”

“Here.”  Joan reached into her bag, pulling out a book and handing it to me.  “Use this.  Margaret and I will share.”

I accepted the thick book, making a mental note of the fact that Potions textbooks seemed to stay about the same size, even decades apart.  “Thank you.”  Sitting down behind them, I placed the book on the desk before leaning forward.  “What page are we on?”

“Three-hundred forty seven,” Margaret whispered back.

I thanked her, turning to the correct page, guessing that the book was probably close to seven hundred pages.  Looking up, I noted that this class period was shared with the Slytherin house.

Once everyone was seated, Slughorn started speaking.

“We are picking up from where we left off last time.”  His gaze raked across the classroom.  “Chapter-” he paused, his eyes landing on me.  A confused expression formed on his face.

I did my best to keep sitting tall, my leg bouncing anxiously.

“Do we have a new student?”

All eyes in the classroom turned to face me.

I held my head high, determined to not cower under the weight.  I kept my eyes locked onto the man at the front of the class.  “Yes, Professor.”

He hummed.  “Curious.  I was not informed we would be getting a new student.”

“A mere mistake I’m sure, Professor.”

“Most likely.  What is your name, then?”

I introduced myself, eyes unintentionally shifting downwards slightly towards the dark haired boy seated at the front of the class.

He, like everyone else, was already looking at me.

I quickly raised my eyes to Professor Slughorn again.

“-sit with Miss King for her first lesson?  In case she needs any help?”

The boy turned to his teacher.  “Of course, Professor.”

With abject horror, I watched as the boy collected his things, walked towards the back of the classroom, and sat next to me.

I looked back to the front of the class.  “Professor, this really isn’t necessary-”

“The Head Boy will willingly assist you if needed, Miss King,” Slughorn said.  “If you get along well on your own, should he so choose, he may return to his own seat.”

I held in a sigh.  “Yes, Professor.”

“Good.”  He turned his back to the class to look at the chalkboard behind him.  “As we were talking about in the last class…”

I ran a hand through my hair, reaching for my quill to start to take notes.  My hand closed around nothing and I lifted my eyes to look at where my quill was supposed to be, only to get a foul reminder.

I wasn’t where- or rather when- I was supposed to be.

I had no supplies.

Deciding I would rather try to memorize what Slughorn was saying instead of asking the boy next to me for anything, I folded my right arm on the desk in front of me, staring towards the front of the class.

“You might want these, Miss King.”

I turned to the soft noise on my right.

Merlin, even his voice was lovely.

At closer proximity, I could better make out his features, greedily noting that everything- his eyebrows, lips, nose- were perfect.

His dark green eyes were staring down at me, shifting between my own.

Before I stared too long I- with some effort- pulled my gaze away from him to look at the parchment and quill he had slid towards me.

My eyes widened slightly.

“It seems, Miss King…” he trailed off and I could hear the smirk in his voice, “it was good luck that I was sent to sit next to you.”

I lifted my head to look at him.

He was, indeed, smirking.  His green eyes shone with kindness and just a hint of mischief.

“Thank you,” I said, grasping the quill and beginning to write as I tried to focus on what Slughorn was saying.

Merlin, that didn’t stop my leg from bouncing, though.

~~~~~~~~~

Class ended and I stood, handing the quill back to the Head Boy.

He looked up at me, still sitting, his gaze dropping to the object.

“Thank you for allowing me to use your quill,” I said, holding my notes at my side.

The boy lifted his gaze to meet my eyes.  “You may keep it,” he said as he stood, forcing me to now look up at his tall frame in order to meet his eyes.  He slung his bag around his shoulder.  “I have more.”

I nodded once.  “Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards.  “You are welcome, Miss King.”

“Come on, King,” Joan said, grabbing my arm.  “Our next class is this way.”

I gave one last look at the Head Boy, nodding my head again to signal a ‘farewell’ and a ‘thank you’ before allowing myself to be led out of the classroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is Transfiguration, taught by Professor Dumbledore.”

I faltered in my steps, stopping in the hallway.

Professor Dumbledore.

It had been so long-

“...you alright, King?”

I blinked back into reality, looking over at Margaret and Joan’s concerned faces.  “Uh, sorry.”  I offered them a crooked grin.  “Go on; what were you saying?”

They talked, but I didn’t listen.  As we strode into Transfiguration class, my eyes instantly made their way to the front of the room.

A man was sitting behind a desk.  He had long white hair and a very welcome face.

“Professor Dumbledore,” I breathed out, relieved to see someone familiar.

To see the man that had been killed.

“Yes, that’s him,” Joan said.

“Here is the book for this class.”  Margaret handed me a textbook, which I accepted, though not really paying attention.

“Thanks,” I managed to get out before sitting in the only open seat; next to a Ravenclaw.  My eyes stayed locked onto the Professor as he began teaching.

~~~~~~~~~~

“And this is the Common Room,” Margaret said, leading me through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

I smiled slightly at the familiar face before being pulled in.

The room, though possessing some similarities to the Common Room in my own time, had notable differences.

The arrangements of the furniture were different, the furniture having a far older style than what I was used to.

“It’s very nice,” I said, observing the room.

“Our rooms are up these stairs,” Joan said, gesturing.  “Do not attempt to go up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.  They are charmed.”

I nodded.  “It was the same way at…” I paused, “my other school.”

Margaret turned to face me.  “Where were you before you transferred?”

“Uhh…it was very similar to this, but it was a small school,” I bluffed.  “You probably wouldn’t have even heard of it.”

They nodded, satisfied.

I let out a small breath of relief as they began to move around the room, introducing me to my other housemates.  I greeted them all, smiling.

“Follow us,” Joan said, walking towards the stairs.  “We will see if we can find your room.”

“Did Headmaster Dippet say which dormitory was yours,” Margaret asked.

I froze, eyes wide.  “No…no, he didn’t.”

“Oh dear.  This may be a problem.”

“I can go ask him,” I said, realizing that I had yet to officially announce my…transference, anyway.

“We will go with you.”

“No!”  I shot my hand out before quickly retracting it and lowering my voice.  “No, it’s okay.  It’s getting late, and I don’t want you out past curfew.”

“But do you know the way,” Margaret questioned.

Assuming Dippet’s office was in the same location Dumbledore’s was, I nodded.  “I’m sure I’ll find it.”  I began backing up towards the door.  “If I’m not back before you girls go to bed, have a goodnight!”

“You as well,” they said, waving.

I turned, exiting the Common Room.

Alright.  Time to find Dippet’s office.

I began walking through the castle, making mental notes of the differences and similarities between this Hogwarts and mine.  As the duration of my walk lengthened, I began to wonder why I was even doing this.

I didn’t need to sign in to Hogwarts.  I didn’t need to take notes in class.  And I certainly didn’t need to start forming attachments to young men.

I didn’t have time to be distracted, no matter how gorgeous that distraction happened to be.

I had one job to do.

I had to find Tom Riddle.

I had to kill him.

“Miss King.”

I jumped at the sound of the voice, whipping around.  I couldn’t make out who was approaching me, since the castle was getting dark as evening came upon it.  Pulling out my wand, I held it out in front of me.  “Lumos.”

A light shone at the end of my wand, illuminating the boy that stopped in front of me.

My eyes widened.  “Merlin,” I breathed out.

It would be him.

The Head Boy raised an eyebrow, cocking his head.  “Curfew has begun, Miss King.  I do not wish to take points away from you on your first day, but-”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted.

He closed his mouth, looking over at me.

I could see a flicker of surprise, and possibly annoyance, in his eyes at being cut off.  “I was just on my way to see Headmaster Dippet,” I explained.

The Head Boy’s expression shifted, becoming more curious.  “Oh?”

“I realized he never told me which dorm was mine,” I said.

The boy didn’t need to know that I hadn’t actually been accepted into Hogwarts yet.

That would have been very suspicious.

“I see.”

A beat of silence passed between us.

“Then let me escort you.  If any other Prefects find you alone, you likely will lose points.”

I nodded.  “Thank you.”

The Head Boy pulled out his wand and flicked his wrist slightly, a light appearing on the end of it.

My eyes widened.  I hadn’t heard him cast ‘lumos’.

The boy gestured and began walking.

I fell into place beside him, increasing the speed of my steps to keep up with his longer strides.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before the boy broke it.

“Why have you transferred to Hogwarts so late in your wizarding career,” he questioned.

“I have a job to do,” I replied without thinking.  My eyes widened as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

He turned to look down at me, regarding me curiously.  “What is the nature of your job?”

I floundered for a realistic response.  “My parents just thought that the school I was previously at wasn’t preparing me well enough for a career.”

“A career?”  The boy was silent for a moment.  “Most witches your age hope for marriage out of school.  There are few who wish to work.”

“Well…” I pursed my lips.  “I guess I’m one of the few.”

The boy hummed.  “We’re here,” he said.  He turned to look at the gargoyle.  “Strawberries.”

The gargoyle spun, revealing the staircase.

I looked over at the Slytherin.  “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done.”

“That’s really not necessary-”

He smirked.  “So you keep saying.  But as I said, if you want to avoid losing points, I will need to accompany you.”

I looked at him for a few moments before nodding, heading up the stairs.  Once at the top I looked around, noting that the office was very similar to Dumbledore’s.  “Headmaster Dippet,” I called out.

A man with long white hair and a short white beard and mustache emerged from behind a pile of books.  His eyebrows furrowed.  “Yes?”

“My name is King, sir,” I said.  “I was transferred to Hogwarts today.”

The Headmaster sat down at his desk.  “It is very late in the day to be transferring, Miss King.”

I swallowed nervously.  “It was a late decision, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Very well.”  Pulling out a quill and parchment, he asked “what are your parents’ names, dear?”

I froze, trying to remember the names of my great grandparents.  “Edward and Dorothy King, sir.”

He nodded, writing the names down.  “What school did you transfer from?”

I listed the first school that came to mind.  “Beauxbatons, sir.”

He nodded again, writing some more.  “That’s a good school.  Why did you transfer?”

I fisted my robe sleeves as my leg began to bounce.  “My parents thought I would be more suited here.”

He looked up at me, saying nothing.

I pursed my lips.  “Professor?”

Reaching into his desk, he pulled out more papers.  “I see you have already been sorted into Gryffindor…”

“Professor Dumbledore, sir,” I said.  “He saw me earlier…”

The headmaster hummed.  “He made no mention of it to me.”

“Probably just an oversight, sir,” I said quickly, beginning to sweat.

Merlin, who knew trying not to be caught in time travel would be so difficult?

“Probably.  Very well, Miss King.”  He reached over his desk, handing me a piece of paper.  “This is your dormitory room.”  He stepped around the desk, leading me back down the stairs.  “I will show you to the Common Room-”

“There’s no need for that, Headmaster.”

We both turned to the voice, seeing the Head Boy standing right where I had left him: in the middle of the hallway.

“I already volunteered to take Miss King back.”

“Ah, Mister Riddle,” Dippet said, clearly pleased.  “Excellent.”

My eyes widened and I nearly choked on my own saliva.  All the blood drained from my face and my heart began to beat erratically in my chest.

Dippet placed his hand on my back and shoved me gently towards the tall boy.

I simply stared up at him, at a complete loss for words.

There was no way-

“Hurry along, Mister Riddle,” Dippet encouraged.  “I’m sure Miss King would like to go to bed at a reasonable hour,” he said, smiling before turning back towards his office.

“Goodnight, Headmaster,” the boy- Riddle- said.

“Goodnight, children.”

Once the gargoyle closed, the boy looked down to meet my gaze.

I didn’t think I had moved in the last two minutes.

Let alone breathed.

“Are you ready, Miss King?”

I finally blinked.  “Riddle?”

He stared at me, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.  “Yes.”

I opened my mouth again, my voice wavering.  “Tom Riddle?”

His eyebrows furrowed further.  “Yes.”  He looked at me curiously.  “Why?”

“I…” I trailed off.

What was there to say?

The silence stretched on and he narrowed his eyes at me.

I blinked at him.

His eyes widened and he leaned back slightly, standing up taller than he had been before.  “You’re the hero, huh?  I guess that makes me the villain.”  He lowered his head, stepping further into my space.

I took an instinctive step backwards.  “You should already know you’re the villain,” I muttered, amazed that I was able to speak, let alone say something so bold in my current state.

“You’ve come to kill me,” he whispered.  “Tell me…where…exactly…are you from?”

I took another step back.

“If you don’t tell me, I can still get the information,” he insisted darkly.

“Stay out of my head,” I warned, with more strength than I felt.

“Everything alright here?”

Tom and I turned towards the voice, seeing two Prefects standing in the hallway.

Tom turned his body mostly towards them, moving away from my space and returning to his full height.  “I was escorting Miss King back to her Common Room.  She just got her dormitory direction from Headmaster Dippet,” he explained casually.

My eyes widened in horror at the speed in which he effortlessly swapped personalities.

“Very well,” one of the Prefects said.

“Enjoy your trip,” the other said with a wave as they walked away to continue their routes.

When they were out of sight I broke into a full sprint down the hallway.

I had no plan.  My body was moving purely on instinct.

Where could I go that would be safe?

I didn’t have time to think.

He could easily catch up.

Running through the halls, I turned a corner and was promptly whipped backwards.  I fell into a chest, trying to rip my arm free of the hand that held it.

Tom’s long fingers and firm hold were making it difficult to break his grip.

“Let go of me!”

Tom lowered his head.  “Be quiet.”

“No!”  I went to reach for my wand, but Tom’s other hand shot forward, fingers wrapping around my wrist and keeping both of my arms in his hold.  I struggled against him, but it was no use.

“Why are you here to kill me,” Tom demanded.

I continued pulling against him.

“Answer me, witch!”  His eyes flashed red, his face contorting into one of anger.

I froze, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.  My wrists hurt and my body was tired from fighting against his hold.  “Because you’re a monster,” I spat.  “Because in my time you’ve killed countless people,” I panted, glaring up at him.  “Because I have to stop you.”

Tom said nothing for several moments, studying me closely.

I defiantly met his eyes, knowing he could use Legilimency if he wished.  He already knew half of it, anyway.

“Am I the most powerful wizard in your time?”

I glared.  “No.”

“Who is,” he demanded, his hold on my wrists tightening.

I lifted my chin, looking at him proudly.  “Dumbledore.”

Rage flashed across Tom’s face.  “Impossible.”

“It isn’t.”  I stared at him, unwavering, even though I felt like my heart was being squeezed.  “You’re going to lose…Voldemort.”

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling harder and faster than it had been.

Then he smirked, an aura of confidence washing over him.

“If I am truly going to lose, why did you come back in time to stop me?”

“To try to reduce the number of deaths,” I half-bluffed.  “Just because you get defeated in my time doesn’t mean we should let you get away with all those murders.”  I glared at him.  “I know I’m too late to prevent the deaths of Myrtle, some of the other students around here, and even others, but what I can try to stop, I will.”

“So you’ve come to kill me.”  Tom raised an eyebrow.  “Did you really think you would be able to?”

“That wasn’t my mission.”  My eyes narrowed at him.  “It was just the one I chose.”  Reeling my leg back, I swung it forward, kicking him in the shin.

He doubled over.

I kneed him in the nose.

He let out a yell as blood began to run down to his chin, his hands loosening enough in surprise that I managed to wiggle one of mine free.

Grabbing my wand as fast as possible, I aimed it at him.  “Stupefy!”

He shot backwards, back colliding with the castle wall before he hit the ground.

Walking over and rolling him onto his back, I held my wand at his throat.  I looked at him, his unconscious body laying on the floor.

Kill him.  Do it.

My grip on my wand tightened.  Foolishly, my eyes raked across his softened features.

Even as blood trickled from his nose, I couldn’t help but think the annoying thought that he was breathtaking.

The two sides of my brain fought each other.

Now’s your chance!  It would be such a pity to destroy something so beautiful.  Avenge all he’s done!

I ground my teeth together, hand shaking as I pointed my wand at him.

Save the world!  Save your friends!

Don’t destroy him!  Do what you were told to do!

End it!

Do the right thing!

Ending him is the right thing!  Stop him from causing harm to others!

Murder is never right!  Change him to become a better person!

You can’t change him!  He’s too far gone!

You don’t know that!

I let out a yell, jerking my arm towards the wall alongside Riddle.

A flash of light emerged from my wand and struck the stone.

Parts of it crumbled, falling alongside the unconscious boy.

I stared down at him for a few moments, heaving breaths.

I had to go.

He could wake up at any moment.

Giving him one final glance I ran towards the Common Room and didn’t look back.

Announcing the password I rushed in, sprinting up to my dorm.  Opening the door as quietly as I could, I sped in, hurrying onto my bed.  I sat on it, hugging my knees to my chest as I stared at the door.

I couldn’t afford to sleep.

He might come for me.

~~~~~~~~

I shakily made my way to breakfast the next morning, creeping around every corner to make sure Tom wasn’t there.  I sat down at the Gryffindor table, only a few students in the Great Hall this early.  Having had no sleep, I decided I would at least get something to eat and try to work through my thoughts.

Now that I hadn’t killed Riddle, what was my next plan?

Should I try again to kill him?  He would definitely be watching me, now.  He knew that I knew.

Should I try to convert him?  Easier said than done.  He’s already committed crimes, and I already attacked him.

Merlin, what did I get myself into?  Why didn’t I just kill him when I had the chance?

No, I scolded myself.  You did the right thing.

Even if it was for selfish, and admittedly, stupid reasons.

Alright.  Tom Riddle was alive.  I allowed Voldemort to live.

I could only hope I wouldn’t come to regret it.

In my time, the situation couldn’t get much worse anyway, so what the heck?  Might as well see where this takes me.

I pushed the eggs on my plate around with my fork, being hungry and yet not possessing an appetite.

“Miss King.”

My head shot up, gaze locking onto a pair of green eyes.

“Riddle,” I greeted coldly, my throat tight.  “How’s your nose?”

He glared as he sat down across from me.  Ignoring my question, a smirk formed on his face as his gaze scanned me.  “Did you sleep in your uniform, King?”

I frowned, mentally cursing myself for forgetting to cast a glamor charm.  My clothes were quite wrinkled.  “I didn’t sleep, actually.”

“Is that so?”  A crooked grin formed on his face.  “And why is that?”

I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.  “You’ve killed for less.”  I left it at that, knowing he understood the subtext.

He hummed.

I raised an eyebrow.  “Why are you here?”

“For information.”

I let go of my fork, letting it clatter slightly as it connected with my plate, and crossed my arms.  “About what?”

“My future.”  He inclined his head towards me slightly.  “You.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Oh, I think there is.”  He leaned forward, lowering his voice.  “If you came to kill me, why did you not do so last night?  I was unconscious…” he trailed off, sitting more upright.  “You had the opportunity.”

I regarded him silently.

What was the best way to respond?

I was never very good at figuring out what to say in delicate matters like this.

It was made even worse by the fact that what I said could drastically impact the lives of countless people, myself included.

“I couldn’t,” I finally said.

Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow and sat up even straighter.

He clearly had not been expecting that.

“And why not?”

I looked towards the doors of the Great Hall to avoid him using Legilimency on me again.

I did not want him using anything to his advantage.

“I somehow managed to convince myself that you were capable of saving.”  I allowed myself to look back at him.  “That you were worth saving.”

He stared at me silently, keeping his expression very guarded.

“You’re a very bright wizard, Tom,” I said.  “Powerful, too.  In the right place, you could do great things.”

“I will do great things,” he insisted.

“You will do impressive things,” I corrected.  “But they will be evil.”  I sat up straighter.  “For your own selfish end.”

His eyes briefly flashed red and I saw his face twitch as he tried to control his expression.  “It’s natural for me to look out for my own interest,” he said, voice slightly tense.

“At the cost of everyone else?”  I rolled my eyes.  “How typically Slytherin.”

His eyes narrowed.  “And I suppose it’s very Gryffindor to run headfirst into something without actually planning it out.”  He scoffed.  “Is it also a Gryffindor trait to retreat out of their task so foolishly when their opponent was helpless before them?”

I felt my anger boiling up.  “I spared your life!”  I whisper-yelled, conscious enough of the few other students in the room.  “The noble thing to do.”

“Because you are so focused on being noble, aren’t you?”

“I don’t send giant snakes to do my killing for me, you miserable boy,” I hissed.

“They weren’t worth my time.”

I slammed my hands on the table, pushing myself to my feet in a hurry as I glared daggers down at him.  “I should have done the job!”

Riddle stood as well, towering over me as he snarled back.  “If you had any brains, you would have!”

The room fell completely silent.

My chest took in air at an irregular rate, and I noticed Riddle’s breathing was also unusual.

We refused to look away from each other.

“Your ‘perfect boy’ image is slipping, Riddle,” I whispered, raising my eyebrow challengingly.  “Tread lightly.”

“I was about to give you the same warning.”  His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer.  “You do not want to make an enemy of me, King.”

I met his eyes, a determination and fury flowing through me.  “You were my enemy before I got here.”

Tom’s jaw clenched.  

The doors to the Great Hall opened, students beginning to flood in.

Riddle cast me one last glance before turning and making his way over to the Slytherin table.

I let out a relieved breath, plopping back down on the bench.  I watched Tom as he sat down, being joined by his housemates.

They all talked animatedly around him, but Tom seemed…distracted.

“Hello, King.”

I turned, seeing Margaret and Joan.  “Good morning.”  The words sounded tense, bordering on rude, to my own ears.

Margaret followed my previous line of sight.  “Looking at the Head Boy again?”  A teasing smile formed on her face.

I crossed my arms, scowling.  “I resent that.”

“Hopefully she’s studying the enemy.”  Joan turned to me.  “You had better be coming up with ways to win the House Cup this year,” she remarked.  “Slytherin’s won the past several years because of that boy,” she said, nodding towards Tom.  “Everyone loves him.”

I looked back over towards the dark haired boy.  “How... lovely,” I sneered.

The girls shared a look.

“Did you manage to find your dormitory alright,” Margaret asked.  “We never saw you.”

The blood began draining from my face as the memories from last night came back.  “Yeah.  It’s not with you two, though.  By the time I got back from Headmaster Dippet’s office, everyone was already in bed, and I got up early.”

At the sound of a few claps I turned my head to the right to see the Headmaster trying to get everyone’s attention.

I thanked Merlin for the distraction.

“Good morning, students,” he greeted.  “Normally I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast, but I believe some point adjustments need to be made.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

“Last night one of the Prefects found Tom Riddle with some injuries,” he began.

All of the color drained from my face and my blood ran cold.

“Our Head Boy was walking back our newest student,” he gestured at me, announcing my name.

I felt faint as all eyes turned to me.

“Riddle has brought it to my attention that when he was walking Miss King back to her Common Room, a troll attacked them, injuring Tom and breaking the wall.”

I was certain the astonishment on my face was evident.  Eyes wide and eyebrows to my hairline, I stared at the Headmaster in bewilderment.

“The Head Boy is certain that Miss King chased the troll out of the school while he was indisposed, saving everyone.”  Dippet smiled.  “For her bravery on her first evening at Hogwarts, saving the Head Boy and the rest of the school, I award Miss King with fifty points.”  He began clapping, everyone else following his lead.

I whipped my head around to look at Riddle, the only one besides myself not clapping, meeting his eyes in confusion.

“I needed to give them some reason for my state you so rudely put me in,” a voice in my head said.

The voice was proper, smooth, yet stern, and so clearly Riddle’s.

I ignored the clapping, keeping my focus on the Slytherin.  Why didn’t you tell them the truth?

“If I had told them the truth, I would have had to tell them why you attacked me, wouldn’t I?  I could have lied, saying you simply lost your temper or felt that I threatened you, but questions about me would arise, wondering what I would have done to warrant such a response from you.”  Tom sat up straighter in his seat, arching an eyebrow as he kept his eyes locked onto mine.  “You pose no threat to me.  You can’t tell anyone what you know without sounding like a deranged lunatic, especially after being here for only a day.”

I struggled to think of an appropriate response.

A hand on my back and a voice right by my ear had my head turning to my left, seeing Joan and Margaret smiling at me.

The connection between Riddle was broken, a sharp twinge in my head causing me to wince slightly.

“Why did you not tell us?”  Margaret asked excitedly.

“I…” I trailed off.  Looking down at my plate I hesitantly lifted a forkful of eggs into my mouth to buy me some time while I thought.  I forced down a gag at the unwanted food.  “I didn’t think it was important information,” I offered weakly with a shrug.

“It’s most definitely important,” Margaret insisted.  “You saved the Head Boy.”

I grimaced at the thought, looking back down at my plate.

“The entire school,” Joan corrected, eyeing her friend.

Margaret looked over to the dark haired girl.  “Well, obviously, but the Head Boy was more immediate.”

I lifted my gaze, keeping my head down, to look at the Slytherin table.

Tom was staring in silence at his own plate.  Unlike my shuffling of the food on mine, he simply looked down at his, his arms crossed and resting on the table.

What was he thinking about?

Was he thinking of killing me?  Would he decide to kill Dumbledore, since I told him that he was the most powerful wizard in my time?  Was he plotting a murder of someone else?  Was he actually thinking of changing?

I put my elbow on the table, holding my forehead in my hand.

Merlin, this was too much.

“Are you well, King?”

I turned to the girls.  “Just a headache,” I excused.

Technically, one was beginning to form at the number of questions and stress of it all.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Margaret said.

“Hopefully it goes away soon,” Joan remarked.  “Potions will be starting in only a little while.”

I groaned.  Here I was, supposed to save the Wizarding World, needing to attend class.

As if I needed more problems in my life right now.

Rubbing my forehead, I sat back up and ate a little more.

Did I want it?  No.

Was I going to regret not eating?  Yes.

Managing to get through half of my breakfast, I stood with everyone, making our way to Potions.  As I took my seat, accepting Joan’s book, I made a mental note to buy some textbooks since, apparently, I would be here for a while.  Flipping to the page we left on last time, I went to pull out some paper to take notes on, but paused.

I mentally added parchment to my shopping list.

The noise in the room got louder as more students filed in, taking their seats.

At the sense of someone sitting beside me, I turned, eyes widening at the figure there.

Oh, yeah.

I had been so concerned about avoiding Tom Riddle’s possibly murderous intentions I had forgotten that he sat next to me in Potions.

Though, I did recall that he didn’t have to.

“Miss King,” he greeted, passing me more parchment as he kept his eyes toward the front of the class.  His gaze remained there, even as he asked “do you still have the quill I gave you?”  He finally turned to look at me.

I nodded.

He turned his attention to Professor Slughorn as the man began writing on the board.

My eyebrows furrowed.  I leaned towards him slightly.  “What are you doing?”

He glanced at me.  “Preparing for class.”

I rolled my eyes.  “I meant sitting here.”

He smirked.  “Only to keep up pretenses, Miss King,” he insisted quietly.  “It casts a good image for the Head Boy to assist the newest student.”

I scoffed, sitting upright again and turning back to my own book.  My eyes roamed the page, pretending to be interested in the words.  “Everything’s all about pretenses with you,” I mumbled.

I didn’t bother looking at his reaction.

~~~~~~~~~

I made my way into Hogsmeade, treading the streets slowly.

Merlin, I really had no idea where I was.

The shops all looked so different from my time.

My heart tugged slightly and I frowned.

My time.

How long was I going to be in this cursed place?

However long it takes to do something about Voldemort, I reasoned with myself.

Letting out a huff, I kept walking, peeking my head into shops to see what they were.

“Looking for something, hero?”

I turned at the sound of the voice, seeing a blond standing on the sidewalk.

Tom Riddle stood slightly in front of him, towering above the boy.

The blond smirked at me.

My eyebrows furrowed, my questioning gaze unintentionally shifting towards Riddle.

Tom nodded his head towards the boy.  “This is Avery.  He’s one of my friends.”

I gave him a disbelieving look, cocking an eyebrow.

Tom lifted his head slightly, tilting his chin up a little in defiance.

I turned to look at Avery.  “I’m not a hero.”  I crossed my arms.  “Whatever Riddle said, it’s not true.”

Avery raised an eyebrow at the accusation.

Tom’s expression remained stoic, but I could see his features harden slightly.

I sighed.  “Look, could you just tell me where to purchase some parchment and textbooks?”

“You don’t know,” Avery asked incredulously.

“I’m not exactly from around here.”  My eyes drifted to Tom before turning back to the blond.

Avery chuckled darkly.  “You could just look around and find out for yourself.  Get more acquainted, you know.”

“That’s what I was doing before you interrupted,” I retorted.

Tom nodded his head towards a store, clasping his hands behind his back.  “I believe you’ll find your desired things in there, Miss King.”

“My desired things, huh?”  I scoffed, beginning to walk towards the building.  “I doubt it.”

~~~~~~~~~

I sat in the library, scratching my head as I stared down at my Transfiguration textbook.  I wasn’t focusing on the words, though.

I was trying to figure out how to get through to Riddle.

I didn’t want to seek him out, but I had to do something.  I couldn’t just wait around for things to happen on their own.

But how does one get through to a psychopathic murderer?

“You’ve been staring at that same page for ages.”

It took a few moments for me to realize that I was the one being spoken to.  Looking up, I locked eyes with my guest.  My stomach caught in my throat.  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Riddle,” I muttered, looking back down at my book.

He sat down across from me.  “I understand; Professor Dumbledore is such a dull teacher.”

I lifted my head to look at him, a glare crossing my features.  “Professor Dumbledore is an excellent teacher.  He’s an excellent mentor and an excellent man.”

Tom sneered.  “I would have sooner compared him to a vulture.  He’s always watching me.”

“Gee,” I deadpanned at him, “I wonder why that is.”

His eyebrow twitched upwards; in challenge or annoyance, I couldn’t tell.  “There’s no evidence of anything I’ve done.”

“Maybe you just seem evil to him.”  I crossed my arms.  “He’s a good judge of character.”

Tom smirked at me.  “Unlike yourself.”

I looked at him in silence for a few moments.  “I can judge someone’s character.”

“Perhaps, but you must not be very good at it.”  He pulled out a book, flipping to a random page to feign studying.  “You left the Dark Lord alive, remember?”

A pang of guilt and rage rushed through me.  “I told you why.”

“But I don’t believe it.”  He lifted his head to look at me.  “Gryffindors are noble, but they’re also headstrong.  If they make up their mind to do something, it takes a lot to get them to change their mind.  And what could be more noble than avenging the deaths of so many?”  He leaned forward.  “So.  What made you change your mind?”

“You’re so smart.”  I leaned forward in my own seat, narrowing my eyes at him.  “Figure it out.”

Tom stared at me for a few moments before letting out an incredulous chuckle and sitting upright.  “Surely you wouldn’t let something as mundane as physical attraction sway you.”

My face broke into a harsh heat and I leaned back in my seat.  Having no response, I simply scoffed and averted my attention to another student searching the shelves for a book.

Tom continued to stare at me in silence.

I could feel my face getting warmer at the attention.

The awkward prolonged quiet wasn’t helping, either.

I took a deep breath, trying to fight off the sweat that had formed a thin layer over my skin.  I practically willed my cheeks to lose some of their red color.

Merlin, they rivaled a Weasley’s hair.

Turning my glare towards the Slytherin sitting across from me, I crossed my arms.  “You didn’t kill me, either.”  I nodded my chin towards him.  “I know your secret.  I’m a threat to your cause.  I could expose you for what you really are.”

“You can’t expose me, remember?  No one would believe you.”

“Dumbledore would.”

His confident smirk was replaced by a frown, his eyebrows pulling together.  His form tensed, sitting more rigid than before.  He looked to the side.  “Dumbledore is a fool.”  He met my eyes again.  “He can’t do anything to me.”

“So you keep saying.  But I’m not convinced.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed at me.  “Are you trying to get me to kill you?”

“No.”  I shrugged one shoulder.  “Just trying to figure you out.  You said you were keeping me alive for information.”

“A true statement.”

I leaned forward.  “Then use Legilimency.  Read my mind and find out all you want to know.  Then you would have no reason to keep me alive,” I challenged.

Tom’s eyes shifted between my own.  “It’s too easy.”

I rolled my eyes, sitting upright again.  “Sorry, I didn’t know that taking over the world was a sport to you.”

He regarded me silently.

When the silence stretched on, I looked back down at my textbook.  “What are you doing here, anyway?  Are you following me or something?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

I glanced up at him before returning my attention to the page in front of me.  After rereading the same sentence eight times I huffed, closing the book and staring in annoyance at the cover.

Transfiguration: Third edition.

I chewed on my lip before stuffing the book in my bag and standing, marching out of the library.

~~~~~~~~~

I steeled myself, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” a voice from inside called.

Pushing open the wooden door, I stepped into the office.  “Professor Dumbledore?”

“Ah, Miss King.”  A small smile appeared on the man’s face.

Merlin, I almost cried at the sight of it.

“Please,” he gestured, “have a seat.”

“Thank you, Professor.”  I sat down in the chair facing his desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“Professor, I was wondering…”  My leg began to bounce.  “I was wondering what you could tell me about… about Tom Riddle.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose.  “What would you like to know about Tom?”

“Anything useful.”

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow at me.

My leg bouncing increased speed.  Surely, I could tell Dumbledore what was going on?  In my time he was dead anyway, so it wouldn’t have an impact later?

It was flimsy logic, but it was all I had.

I huffed.  “Professor, I’m from the future.  I was sent back from the year 1998.”  Reaching into my robe, I pulled out the time turner to show him.

His expression remained mostly impassive as he simply looked at the object before lifting his gaze to me.  “All but two time turners in the world only take the wearer back at a maximum of five hours.”

“This one was altered by the person who sent me back,” I explained, trying to be as vague as possible.

He didn’t need to know everything.

I fisted my altered uniform roughly, twisting the fabric in my hands.  “Professor, I was sent here to change the past.  To save everyone that Riddle kills.  But I’m not a hero.”  I let out a humorless chuckle.  “I’m starting to wonder if I’m even a Gryffindor.”

“Why would you not belong in Gryffindor?”

I lifted my eyes to meet his.  “I had the opportunity to kill Tom Riddle, before his acts got too carried away…but I didn’t.  I cowered out of it.”

Dumbledore hummed.  “Oftentimes, killing is the easy solution.  Especially if Tom becomes as bad as you say.  It is simple to end someone that would cause so much harm.”  He looked at me meaningfully, with a warm smile and a kind look in his eyes.  “Sometimes it takes more bravery to spare a life.”

I bit back tears and nodded.  I cleared my throat.  “What should I do, Professor?  How do I change a killer?”  I moved in my seat, sitting on the edge of the chair.  “How can I get through to him?”

“I do not know everything about Mister Riddle,” Dumbledore informed.  “He grew up in an orphanage.  His mother died when he was very young.  His father abandoned him.”  Dumbledore clasped his hands, resting them on the desk.  “There must be a reason that you specifically were sent here, Miss King.  Use your judgment.  Find your own way.”

I sighed, looking down and nodded.  “Thank you, Professor.”  I stood and exited the office.

My own way, huh?

~~~~~~~~~

What the frick was my way?

I briefly considered the option of holding my wand to his throat, demanding he fix his mistakes or I’d kill him, but I quickly reasoned that wouldn’t work.

No matter how much I wished it did.

I had been in 1945 for a few weeks, but it felt like I had been here for a number of months.

And I was making no progress.

My grades weren’t even very good, since I had other things on my mind.  I had never been a good multitasker.

Merlin, I was seriously doubting Professor McGonagall’s choice in sending me back.

I had no idea what I was doing.

Alright, then.  I’d wing it.

I stood from the chair in the Common Room, making my way to the door.

“Curfew starts soon, King,” Joan warned, looking up from her book.

“I know.”  Without looking back, I pushed the portrait open and closed it behind me, making my way to the dungeon.

I never liked the dark, and this part of the castle seemed to soak it all up.  Thankfully, I could still see.  Reaching the door to the Slytherin Common Room I paused.

I didn’t know the password.

And with curfew starting soon, Riddle might not have even been in the Common Room.

I chewed my lip.

Thankfully, the door swung open on its own.

I froze as a figure walked out, not sure if I should be relieved or not.  “Avery,” I greeted.

The blond looked up at me, his steps halting.  “Hero?”  He raised a judgmental eyebrow.  “What are you doing at the Slytherin Common Room?”

“Looking for Riddle.”

Avery watched me for a few moments.  “He’s inside.  He’ll be starting to patrol soon.”

“Can you get him?  I need to talk to him.”

Avery thought for a few moments before retreating into his Common Room.  He emerged shortly after, Riddle in tow.

Avery walked down the hallway, doing whatever it was he was going to do before he saw me.

Tom closed the door behind him, looking down at me in a manner similar to Avery’s.

It was different, though.

Tom was studying me.  Trying to figure me out.

He raised a silent, questioning eyebrow at me.

I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable in my own skin.

I cleared my throat.  “Can we talk?”

His other eyebrow rose in surprise.  “I’m going to begin my rounds soon-”

“I know; Avery told me.”  I looked up at him.  “But I need to either sort this out or go home.”

Tom’s expression shifted ever so slightly.  “You would go home?  Even if your goal was unaccomplished?”

I shrugged one shoulder.  “If I can’t do what I was sent to do, there’s no point in hanging around a time that isn’t mine, is there?”

Tom regarded me silently for a few moments.  “No.  No, I suppose not.”

I gestured at him.  “Especially with you graduating soon, I’m going to lose a lot of contact with you.”  I cracked a small smile.  “Unless I apply for a job at the same place.”  I tilted my head, my smile growing.  “But I kind of doubt I’d get it, since I would only have about two months of proof of my existence, so…”

The corners of Tom’s mouth raised slightly.  He nodded, looking down the hallway.  His gaze drifted back to meet my eyes.  “Walk with me.”

I fell into step beside him, needing to jog a little initially to catch up to his long paces.  Once I settled into a rhythm that would keep me next to him, I relaxed, turning to look up at his side profile.  “Do you like being the Head Boy?”

He turned his head to look at me, a confused expression overtaking his features.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking forward again as he turned corners without much thought.

I figured he must have memorized his paths at this point.

“It gives me power, but also responsibility.”

“So, yes and no?”

He looked down at me.  “Did you come to talk to me about something as dull as this?”

I shrugged, turning my attention forward as we rounded another corner.  “I just wanted to talk to you about anything.”

He kept his expression guarded.  “Trying to discover my weaknesses?”

I frowned as I thought for a moment.  “Not really.”  I looked up at him.  “I don’t think your feelings on your Head Boy duties are particularly useful insights into the darkest parts of your mind,” I admitted.

His eyes flickered down to me very briefly before looking ahead again.  “Was there anything else?”

I pursed my lips.  “I didn’t really have anything in mind.”  I looked back towards him.  “Just…tell me about yourself.”

A skeptical look overtook Tom’s features as he continued to stare ahead, resolutely not looking at me.  “You’re trying to get me to reveal something.”

I could see it behind his eyes, though.

Vulnerability.

“Tom…” I sighed, looking up at him.

He finally looked down at me.

I frowned.  “You’re far too cynical.  Is it so hard to believe I just want to get to know you?”

Tom raised an eyebrow.  “You did try to kill me.”

“And I haven’t for almost a month now,” I reminded.

Tom’s eyes shifted to the floor for a few beats before he looked forward again.  “I still don’t trust you.”

“Nor I, you.”

~~~~~~~~~

I tugged at my hair, looking down at my Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

“Is something wrong, King?”

I looked up, seeing Tom sit across from me.  “My grades are slipping because I’ve been a little…preoccupied.”  Pursing my lips, I let out a small huff.  “And Defense Against the Dark Arts was never one of my strong suits,” I remarked, gaze returning to my book.

“Well, fortunately it’s my best subject.”  Tom stood, moving around the table to sit next to me.

I felt heat creep up my neck at the proximity.

He placed his hands on the table, his robe sleeve brushing mine, looking over at the pages I had flipped open.  “What have you been struggling with?”

Merlin, how was anyone supposed to think with Tom that close, let alone focus.

“Uhhh.”

Tom looked down at me, his green eyes peering into mine.

My breathing picked up, chest rising and falling at a faster rate.  I studied his face for a few moments, gaze dropping briefly to his lips before quickly averting my eyes to stare down at the textbook.

King, what do you think you’re doing!?  Pull yourself together!

I forcibly cleared my throat.  “Uhhh,” I repeated, my voice even weaker than it had been.  I let out a strained chuckle, holding my head in my hand.  “Merlin, Tom.”

“Are you alright, King?”

I looked over at him, only to turn even redder at seeing the smirk on his face.

“Should I take you to the healer?”  His eyebrows quirked upward almost mockingly.  His features shifted, feigning concern.  “I don’t believe that shade of red is normal.  Or healthy.”

I glared, the expression holding no actual anger, and swatted him in the arm, looking back to my book.  “I hate you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle before pulling the textbook closer to him so he could see it better.  Gesturing at it, he looked back at me.  “What’s confusing you?”

An affectionate smile graced my features.

I didn’t even have the thought to gasp in horror at the action.

~~~~~~~~

“No, that’s purely a defensive spell.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, scratching down a note as I took a bite of toast.

Tom sat next to me, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

“I think some of these spells should be more versatile,” I muttered, finishing writing and sitting upright.

“Unfortunately, we cannot decide.”

I looked up at Tom.  “Bummer, really.”  I huffed out a sigh.  “I guess we just have to focus on what we can control.”

Tom’s gaze dropped slightly.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Indeed,” he said.

I blinked at him for a few moments before pointing at a sentence in my book.  “But, does-”

The sound of the doors in the Great Hall opening brought my attention to them.

I sighed as students flowed in.  Looking back to Tom, I frowned.  “I wish there was somewhere private we could meet.  We aren’t in the same house, so we can’t even both be in the same Common Room.”

Tom hummed.  “The library is only available for certain hours, as well.”

I nodded, pursing my lips.  “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”  Closing my book, I looked back at Tom as I put the textbook back in my bag.  “Thanks for all your help.”

Tom chuckled briefly.  “It’s a wonder you made it to seventh year in your time.”  He stood from the Gryffindor table, looking down at me.  “I can only assume that magic has gotten even more complex in future decades.”

“The style of writing is different.”  I sent him a crooked grin.  “Less pompous, if you ask me.”

He scoffed.  “Less professional, you mean.”  He turned around, returning to the Slytherin table.

I smiled at his back for a few moments before returning to my breakfast.

“How are you, King?”

I looked up, seeing Margaret sit across from me.  “I’m doing well, how about you?”

She smiled.  “I’m ready for the day.  Our finals are in only a few weeks, but I feel prepared.”

Groaning, I put my head in my hand.  “Don’t remind me.  This Defense Against the Dark Arts stuff is killing me.”

“You seem to be doing better in class,” she remarked, pouring herself a cup of pumpkin juice.

I smiled softly, the image of Tom Riddle appearing in my head.  Clearing my throat, I looked up at the Gryffindor.  “It’s a miracle, Margaret.”

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m ready to go to sleep,” Joan remarked, heading back to the Common Room for the evening.

“It has been a long day,” Margaret agreed, readjusting her grip on the books she held to her chest.

“I’ll probably be up for a little bit,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair with a huff.  “I need to do more studying.”

“Miss King.”

The three of us turned to the voice.

I involuntarily smiled at the sight of the Slytherin.  Nodding in greeting, I managed to wipe most of the smile away.  “Mister Riddle.”

My housemates were looking between us suspiciously.

Tom turned to the two girls.  “May I borrow her?”

They exchanged glances before nodding at the Head Boy.

Tom smiled.  “Wonderful.”

I looked at the girls and waved.  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

They waved back before continuing to head towards the Common Room.

I turned back to Tom, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly.  “Borrow me?”

He smirked back.  “It worked, didn’t it?”

I shook my head, chuckling.  “What did you need?”

“I wanted to show you something.”  He gestured for me to follow him, which I swiftly did.

I didn’t even realize I no longer had trouble trying to match his pace.

“I found somewhere I think we could meet,” he said just quietly enough so that no one but me could hear.  “I had read something about it and began to research.”  He turned a corner, stopping in front of a wall.  He stared up at it.  “It’s called ‘The Room of Requirement’.”

My eyes widened.

Of course!

“Brilliant, Tom.”  I turned, seeing the familiar door begin forming on the once-blank wall.

Once the door had fully appeared, I walked forward, opening the door and stepping inside.

I paused, looking around.

“Is something wrong?”

My gaze raked the room.  “It’s just different from my time.”  I chuckled, observing the couch and two chairs surrounding a small table.

A fireplace sat a few paces away, filling the room with warmth.  A red rug covered the floor, a bookshelf in the corner of the room.

I chewed on my lip.  “I suppose it’s for a different use, though.”

“What do you use the room for in your time?”

The voice was so close I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Tom standing behind me.  My gaze raked his features.  I forced my voice to remain steady.  “Practicing spells.”  I drew my gaze from him to look around the room again.  “It’s usually much more open than this.”

Tom hummed before moving from behind me to stand by the small table.  “I thought this would be a good place for us to study,” he remarked casually, running his hand along the back of a chair.

I watched the action before lifting my gaze to meet his eyes.

He met mine at the same time.

“It’s very cozy in here.”  I walked towards him, sitting down on the couch.  “I might do more sleeping in here than studying.”

Tom sat down next to me.  “I will not let you sleep.”  He looked over at me.  “Not with the end of the semester so close.”

I huffed.  “Right.”  Sighing, I pulled my school bag off my shoulder, dropping it on the floor next to me as I pulled out my DADA book and set it on the table, turning to the right page.  “Now… where were we?”

~~~~~~~~

“Correct.”

I sighed out in relief, leaning back against the familiar couch, running my hands along my face.

“You really are doing quite well,” Tom said from beside me.

I let out a short chuckle.  “Only thanks to you.”  I dropped my hands to my lap, looking over at the Slytherin.  “There’s only one week left until exams.”  I scooched forward on the couch so I could better reach the table, looking down at my textbook.  “With all of this new information, my brain may explode.”

“I think that is unlikely.”

I chuckled as I turned to look at Tom, only to freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

He was looking down at me, a warm glint in his eyes.  A beautiful glow was being cast on part of his face from the fire, contrasting the dim lighting of the rest of the room.

The sounds of the crackling embers filled my ears.  The smell of wood flooded my nose.

A warmth overtook me as I looked between Tom’s green eyes.

My heart twinged.

I gasped slightly, looking away.  My eyes wide, I held my head in my hands as I tried to calm my breathing.

This can’t be happening.

“King?”

I felt the couch shift as Tom leaned closer to me.

“Are you alright?”

I looked over at him, meeting his concerned eyes.  I let out a tiny quiet, albeit strained, laugh.  “I’m alright, Tom.”  My gaze dropped to his lips, lingering there for far longer than I had intended, getting caught up in mentally tracing their shape.

I briefly wondered how they’d feel.

I groaned, falling sideways on the couch, my hair splayed out on the cushion.  I hid my face in my hands.

What in Merlin’s name was wrong with me?

Sighing, I turned, lying on my back as I stared up at the ceiling.

He’s the Dark Lord, he’s the Dark Lord, he’s the Dark Lord, he-

I closed my eyes.

The Dark Lord would never help the woman sent back to kill him with her homework.

My eyes opened, seeing Tom looking down at me.

His face was contorted into one of confusion as his gaze raked my form before meeting my eyes again.  He quirked an eyebrow.

I chuckled, sitting up again.

“Is everything okay?”

I smiled at the Slytherin.  “Yeah.”  My gaze drifted between his curious eyes.  “It is.”  Slowly, I reached my right hand up.

His gaze went to it, watching for a few moments, before his eyes returned to mine.

I carefully placed my hand on the side of his face.

He took in a sharp inhale, eyebrows pulling together and eyelids fluttering.

I gently rubbed my thumb over his cheek, reaching my left hand up and placing it on his shoulder.

He stared into my eyes with so much emotion I could barely stand it.

I leaned forward slowly, watching him intently for any indication of rejection.

He swallowed hard as I got closer.

When I was just a few inches from him, I met his eyes.

They were large, looking alarmed, but I didn’t find any dislike.

I slowly closed the gap, my eyes fluttering closed unintentionally the moment our lips met.

Merlin, his lips felt so perfect against mine.

My hand on his shoulder shifted, dragging across his back to cradle the back of his head.  My fingers threaded through the hair, loving the softness.

A tug on my waist brought my attention to the weight of his hands on my hips.

I broke the kiss slowly, desperately needing air, and rested my forehead against his.  I continued to play with his hair as I panted for breath, my eyes still closed, afraid that if I opened them the moment would be gone.

For the first time in a long while I could finally hear Tom’s breathing, nearly as ragged as mine.

I felt a gentle nudge against my lips and kissed back, my right hand taking place at the back of Tom’s head to replace my left hand, which had traveled down to Tom’s left shoulder.  My arm laid completely across the back of his neck and shoulders, pulling him towards me with such force I fell backwards onto the couch, Tom following.

I opened my eyes as I pulled away, looking up at him.

He panted from above me, eyes drifting between my own.

Shifting my right hand, I brushed some of his fallen hair out of his eyes.  “I think I love you,” I whispered.

His eyes widened and he froze, his breathing seeming to stop altogether.

But perhaps it did.

As much as my head screamed at me that this was Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the killer of dozens, it didn’t feel true.

I could never feel this way about Voldemort.

Tom Riddle was a different person.  He shared the same anger issues, hurts, wishes for something better for himself, but he wasn’t so malicious.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, cradling his jaw again.  “You don’t need to say it back if you don’t want to.”

Tom’s wide eyes searched my own, as if in disbelief of what he’d heard.

I chuckled, reaching both arms around his back and pulled him down, laying him on top of me.

He tried to use his forearms to support his weight, but I forced his entire body onto me, enjoying the fullness of his presence.

Letting out a content sigh, I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back.  I turned my head, placing a kiss on his temple before we stilled, just listening to the sounds of our own breathing and the fire, feeling nothing but each other.

~~~~~~~~

Tom hadn’t spoken to me since yesterday.

While he normally would spend some time eating breakfast at my table before most of the students came in, he marched straight to the Slytherin table, an expression on his face that I had never seen on him before.

He didn’t look quite confused or angry, but he didn’t look happy or sad either.

The best guess I had was that he was trying to figure out what to do after our last…interaction.

To be fair, hearing those three dangerous words from someone not from your own time sent to kill you would probably send me for a loop.

I slowly ate supper, doing some thinking of my own.

I had caught him looking at me multiple times today, but that was hardly surprising, or even helpful in finding out what was going through his brain.

It was doing little to calm the anxiety that had seemed to settle in my stomach and reside there all day.

“King?”

I looked up, seeing Margaret and Joan looking at me expectantly.  “Sorry, what?”

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I let out a small chuckle at the irony, looking back down at the food on my plate.  “I’m not sure.”  My gaze lifted to find the Head Boy.  “I guess that depends.”

Margaret caught it and she gasped, clasping her hands together.  “Are you going to marry Tom Riddle!?”

My fork slipped out of my hand, clattering against the plate as my eyes widened.  “Shhh!”  I narrowed my eyes at her.  “Merlin, Margaret, people can hear you.”

She grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry.”

After a beat of silence, Joan looked over at me.  “Well?  Are you?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.  “I don’t know.”  My leg began to bounce and I brought my hand down, placing it on top of my knee in an effort to stop its movements.  “I don’t know what we are.”  I looked over at him.  “I don’t know if we can.”

Can you marry someone from the past?

“We didn’t think you and Tom were that close,” Joan admitted carefully.  “I know that you would often disappear, but we didn’t know why.”

“He’s helping me study for the upcoming exams,” I said, gaze dropping back to my plate.

“Is that all?”

I glanced over at Margaret.  “I don’t know.”  Putting my hands on the table, I stood.  “I’m going for a walk.  I’ll see you both later.”  Stepping away from the table, I marched out of the Great Hall, not once looking back.

~~~~~~~~

I simply had to ask him.

Two days had gone by without anything from the famous Slytherin.

I sat at breakfast, trying to figure out when the best time to approach him was.

He didn’t even come into the Great Hall early like he usually did, instead coming in surrounded by his followers amongst the flood of other students.

“Attention, students,” Headmaster Dippet spoke.  “Your final exams begin today and last throughout the week.  To avoid cheating, only one house at a time will take their exams so that everyone can have their own desk.”  His gaze raked across the tables.  “Your schedules are posted on the classroom doors.  Now,” he gestured, “enjoy your breakfast.  And good luck.”

I ran a hand through my hair as he sat back down.

Alright.  Approaching Tom before our exams was out of the question.

Maybe I could catch him in the hallway.

I then had the thought that talking to the most famous boy in school about our love life in the middle of a likely-busy hallway was not my best idea.

After class, perhaps?

He might have Head Boy duties, or something.  He’d probably run off to his Common Room as soon as he could, anyway.

Merlin, this was giving me a headache.

Sighing in temporary defeat, I pulled out my textbook to begin studying for my first test.

Maybe focusing on something else would clear my head.

~~~~~~~~

By Friday I was determined to track this man down, even if it meant breaking into the Slytherin Common Room.

It had been a whole week since we had spent that evening in the Room of Requirement.

Merlin, it just was my luck that the first person I broke down walls for, confessed my feelings to and was intimate with would be from fifty years ago, and it just would be Lord Voldemort- the man that I had been sent to kill- and of course he would avoid me at any possible cost afterwards.

You couldn’t write this stuff.

As soon as I handed in my test for grading- briefly noting that there was no way I did as well as I would have liked given my mental state- I sprinted out of the classroom as quickly as I could, making a beeline for the Slytherin Common Room.

If I had to wait there for hours, I would see Tom Riddle.

He couldn’t run forever.

And so, I waited.

Because it was Friday, the last day before graduation, there was only one exam today in order to give the teachers enough time to grade everything.

Tom wouldn’t be long.

I waited outside their door for two hours, at some point sitting down because my feet were beginning to hurt from standing on the stone floor.  At the sound of voices, I looked up, rising to stand.

Tom, naturally, led the pack; taking up the front.

He looked away from one of his followers, eyes landing on their door before his gaze drifted to me.

I don’t think I had ever seen Tom Riddle look nervous before.

“King,” he addressed in a false sense of calm.

I could hear the slight waver in his voice.

Cocking an eyebrow, I resisted the urge to cross my arms.  “Riddle,” I replied in a cold tone.

He let out a harsh, silent breath, glancing away briefly before meeting my eyes again.  “What are you doing here?”

“Hunting for snakes.”  I allowed my arms to cross.  “They tend to hide when they get scared.”  I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes.  “You haven’t seen any, have you?”

Whispers broke out amongst the Slytherins behind Tom.

He looked over his shoulder, wordlessly silencing them with only an expression.  Turning back to me, he faltered for a moment.

I had clearly caught him off guard.

He was getting sloppy.

I mentally patted myself on the back.

Surely if Tom was going to end up as Voldemort he would have kept alert, right?

At his prolonged silence I raised an expectant eyebrow.

“What’s the wait for?!”  Someone from the back yelled.

I looked towards the back of the group before meeting Tom’s gaze again.

He huffed, rolling his eyes slightly.  Looking back to me, he finally found his voice.  “We were going to celebrate the end of the year…” he trailed off, hoping I would get the message.

If he thought I was going to succumb to his not-so-subtle hint to leave, he had another thing coming.

I scoffed.  “You’re not.”

“We’re not?”

“You’re not.”  I nodded my head towards the group behind the Head Boy.  “They can do what they please.”  I looked back to Tom.  “But you owe me a conversation and some time.”

He watched me for a few moments.

I refused to back down.

Tom sighed, nodding.  He gestured for the rest of his housemates to go in, quietly announcing the password.

When we were finally alone I remained silent, wanting him to crumble a little under the dread of what would come out of my mouth.

Frankly, I didn’t even know what I was going to say.

After a few moments he cleared his throat, drawing his shoulders back and holding his head high to stand to his full height.  He looked at me, raising an eyebrow, but I could see the flicker of fear behind his eyes.

I waited a few beats before asking the first question.  “Do you realize how horrible this week has been for me?”  I scoffed.  “Merlin, Tom, we graduate tomorrow- I worried I would never see you again.”

His gaze dropped to the floor.

I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious.  “Look, if you regret it- if you regret me- then you should have just come out and say it.”  I looked to the wall, terrified of meeting his eyes.

Silence stretched between us, feeling so suffocating I considered leaving to get some fresh air.

But I couldn’t.  Not now.  Not when I finally had him.

“I don’t.”

It was so quiet I barely heard him.  I finally turned my head to face him, meeting his gaze.  I eyed him, trying to find any indication of a lie.  Finding none, I continued.  “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I needed some time to think.”

I tried to swallow the lump that formed in my throat, but was unsuccessful.  “And?”  I managed to croak out.

He grew silent again.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was toying with me intentionally.

My eyebrows pulled together as I searched his eyes.  “Tom?”

He took a deep breath.  “I want you to stay.”  He straightened his posture again.  “I want you to stay with me.”

I swore my heart stopped.

Time seemed to halt around me.

I opened my mouth, trying to respond, but I found I had no idea what to say.

Did I want to stay with him?  Could I stay in a time that wasn’t my own?  Was he completely cured of his evil endeavors?

I blinked away my thoughts, squaring my shoulders.  “And your…plans for the future?”

He went silent, though he held my gaze.  “I never had anyone love me before,” he finally settled on saying.  “I didn’t think I was capable of the feeling, myself.”  He took in a large, shaky breath, but kept his eyes on mine.  “I’m willing to give up my aspirations for you.”  His eyebrows quirked up in vulnerability.  “If you’ll have me.”

I was rendered completely and utterly speechless.  All thoughts of an appropriate response fled my brain.  I looked down, trying to think, when I caught sight of his hands at his sides.  I lifted my head to meet his gaze.  “And the Horcruxes?”

He grimaced.  “I haven’t destroyed them, yet.”  He lifted his hand to look at the ring that hugged his finger.  “I’m not looking forward to it.”

“It’s going to hurt,” I confirmed, walking towards him to look at the ring.  Reaching my hand out, I stroked the gem, making a mental note that he let me.  I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.  “That’s what happens when you split your soul apart.”

He sighed, nodding.

I clapped my hand on his chest good-naturedly.  “Be glad I caught you when you’ve only made two.  I imagine it hurts worse with each split.”

Having nothing to say, he simply nodded again.

I chuckled, holding his large hand between both of mine.  “So…” I grinned up at him, “you’ll get a good job because you’re so smart, I’ll get the best job I can, being in a different time and everything, and we’ll go from there.”  I gently patted the top of his hand.  “How does that sound?”

He smiled.  “It’s a start.”

I chuckled, stepping completely into him and wrapping my arms around him.

His arms came around me, settling on my low back.

I let out a small laugh.  “How on earth did I do this?”

Tom pulled away slightly to look down at me.  “Do what?”

“Tame the Dark Lord.”  I chuckled.  “I still don’t know what Professor McGonagall was thinking.  I have no idea how this worked.”

Tom thought for a moment.  “By being yourself, I suppose.”

I hummed.  “Sounds flimsy.”

Tom huffed a chuckle and I grinned, looking up at him.

Reaching my right hand up, I once again cradled the side of his face.

He closed his eyes, leaning into it, before he opened them to look down at me.

We both leaned forward, meeting in the middle, and our lips connected, slotting into place.

My heart danced in my chest as I ran my hand through his hair before pulling away to look up at him.  “I love you.”

He smiled down at me.  “I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Holy moly, this is so long.  54 pages.

This was actually really hard to write.  Trying to make Tom Riddle redeemable is easier said than done.  I got stuck multiple times when writing this, trying to figure out how to best progress in a way that was realistic and moved the story and their relationship forward in a believable way.  He's also so nuanced that I reworked a fair number of his lines to try to sound as much like him as possible.

I went back and edited some things multiple times because I noticed that I was writing King coming at the problem from a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff way, so I had to try to adjust it to make her more firmly Gryffindor.  She still has moments of traits from other houses, but that's normal, so.

There's a couple things in the story that I didn't outright say, but wanted to share anyway:

-Tom WAS following King (in Hogsmeade, the library, etc.) to keep an eye on her, because she DID defeat him and could have killed him if she wanted.  While he never admitted it, he did view her as a threat.

-Dippet's password being "strawberries" I made up/guessed, because Dumbledore had started a rumor that Dippet had planted strawberries on the castle grounds, likely meaning the Headmaster was fond of them.

-Doing some research, I found that Abraxas didn't actually go to school with Tom, but Avery was one of the few Death Eaters that were confirmed to.

-Tom reacting so strongly to physical affection just made sense to me.  Especially growing up in an orphanage, that boy is definitely touch-starved.

-Tom avoiding King to think also seemed fitting, since he was new to love and he had to battle between a woman and all of the plans he had been crafting for years.  I think it's realistic that he would have tried to give himself space and time to weigh his options, and even not wanting to seek her out to tell her.

-Tom didn't see an issue announcing the password to the Slytherin Common Room in front of King because it was the last school day, so she couldn't use it after they graduated, anyway.