Chapter 11
September 20th, 1943
Tom
“I’m thinking of writing home, my Lord,” Malfoy tells me.
He and I are in an empty classroom, magically silenced and locked just to be safe. After Potions, the boy practically skipped up to me to announce that he has news about Mikaelson. Leaning against a desk, I have my arms crossed with a hand scratching the stubble on my jaw while I watch Malfoy pace.
“You know your family’s rules,” I sigh, irritated that I want to talk him out of this. “Any public spectacle with someone less than pure blooded will only lead to a lashing. I can’t imagine Armond Malfoy II will suddenly allow his line to be tarnished, even for one night.”
Abraxas slumps against a desk, dejected but thoughtful, “You’re right, as usual. My Father is many things, but flexibility has never been apart of his arsenal of characteristics. But, I cannot let Lestrange or Black take Mikaelson to the Halloween Ball! The girl is actively seeking a partner, how can I pass up this opportunity?”
Dealing with frivolous things always annoys me, but that doesn’t explain the slowly growing rage that’s sending ice through my veins. I’m the one that sent my followers after her, I still want to learn more.
Despite my progress in the Room of Requirement, Hope has gone back to being tight lipped around me. If my questions stray beyond the particulars of killing her, she simply ignores me. I’m fully aware that none of my men have gotten as far as I have, and far be it from me to help them in this endeavor.
But, I haven’t gotten as far as I have or become as powerful as I have in my sixteen years by not being self aware. I’ve watched my men through the years, studying how ‘normal’ people live their lives so I could better manipulate and control. Various of my followers have fallen into a pit of emotions, letting witches lead them around by their dicks like puppies on a leash.
I have no intention of turning into a simpering idiot, I have far too many ambitions for such a thing. However, the more I plan and scheme, Hope Mikaelson is never far from my mind. With access to her power, I could easily take over the world. Even Dumbledore pales in comparison, even with Mikaelson pulling her punches.
There’s only one clear path ahead, I need to find out more. I don’t have enough information to come to a sound conclusion, first I need more answers.
“There is one solution I can think of,” I tell him with a sly grin.
***************
October 4th, 1943
Hope
Over a month has passed, and I think the student body has more or less gotten used to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to walk through busy areas without someone starring at me, but the numbers have dropped dramatically.
My free time is spent reading ahead for my classes, finishing homework early, relaxing with Mary or Anthony in our common areas, or lounging with Taylor and Amanda in various parts of the castle.
“You swear he hasn’t bothered you?” Anthony asks me for the thousandth time as we walk to Potions.
Glaring at him slightly, “Yes, Anthony. I swear that Malfoy has not said one more word to me about the dance. Really, when you catch us chatting during class, the topics are always school related.”
Both Mary and Anthony became worried after I explained Abraxas’ offer of help after my little lie. Naturally, Mary was ready to divorce his balls from his body. She’s like a mother bear when it comes to her friends, and what was initially off putting has turned into one of my favorite qualities of hers.
Even so, I assured my friends that Malfoy would not be deciding who I end up at the Ball with. With the competition on helping me, Mary and Anthony have decided to focus on the dance, specifically. Mary keeps telling me that we can knock out two goals in one night, but I’m not sure how I feel about the parallel with my world. Sex after Prom is the very definition of a cliche.
“We’re just worried for you,” Mary tells me with a soothing tone. “Simply because he hasn’t done something yet doesn’t mean that nothing will happen. For all we know, he’s spent the last weeks scheming.”
Sighing, I give them both an apologetic look, “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I’ve just felt so normal lately, talking about Malfoy plotting reminds me that I’m not. But, that isn’t either of your faults. I really do appreciate you two looking after me, though.”
I’m swarmed by smiles and warm arms for a moment, and then the three of us arrive at class. Truthfully, the Slytherins have settled down since the beginning of the year. Instead of being walked to every class, now I’m only accompanied sporadically.
It has served as a steady reminder that their leader is interested in me. The extent is still unknown, but it would shock me if he didn’t want to become as powerful as I am. Although, Riddle’s followers have stopped interrogating me. Now, the only way I can describe their interactions is…friendly. Which is very troubling.
“Good morning, Ms. Mikaelson,” I hear.
Pausing my movements, I turn to the voice that’s out of place. Standing next to me, at my Potions table, is Tom Riddle. Searching the room, I find Abraxas sitting with Dolohov. The former gives me a friendly smile and wave, the latter glares at me like he wants to set me on fire.
“What are you doing?” I ask Riddle when I turn back to him.
Discarding his robe, Riddle prepares his work area with a relaxed smile and confident movements. It’s not that I’m attached to Malfoy as a partner, but the two of us worked well together. After he gave up on trying to get information out of me, that is. Riddle, I fear, won’t give up so quickly.
Turning what I imagine is his most handsome smile on me, Riddle responds, “I’m preparing my work station, of course. What does it look like I’m doing?”
My eye twitches, but I manage to keep my tone even, “Since when are we Potions partners?”
“I convinced Abraxas to switch with me,” he tells me with a shrug.
Clenching my teeth, I get back to preparing my own area. Being upset with Malfoy is a waste of time, I’m sure ‘convince’ is Riddle’s way of saying ‘command’ in everyday conversation. I can’t decide if I’m angry about the situation because no one bothered to ask me who I’d like to be my partner, or if the change in partner is what matters to me.
Mary and Anthony catch my eye at different points in the class, but all I can offer is a confused shrug. Thankfully, Riddle doesn’t ask me any prying questions. He acts as the perfect partner, focusing on his tasks, and offering help without insulting my intelligence.
When Slughorn praises our completed Dreamless Sleep Potion, I try my best not to scoff at the way he overly compliments Tom. Each time the books from my world prove to be accurate here, I can’t help but want to laugh.
“You value the truth,” Riddle says after Slughorn moves on to the next table. “So, I’ll make my intentions clear. I am planning on taking you to the Halloween Ball.”
If I had been taking a sip of water, I would have spit it out all over the man. He doesn’t do more than smile at me while cleaning his area, but I’m stuck starring at him in shock. After a moment, I come to my senses, and continue my task.
Shaking my head, I do my best to sound as casual as he did, “I do value the truth, which is why I’ll tell you now that my answer will be ‘no.’”
If I thought my declaration would result in a reaction, then I would be very disappointed. Without even a pause, Riddle continues what he’s doing, acting like he hasn’t a care in the world. Clearly, Abraxas told him about our conversation, but I don’t know why Riddle wants to take me.
“You may say that now, but there is plenty of time before the dance. I am the best option for you, and I have no issue with proving that,” he explains with a shrug.
Clenching my teeth and narrowing my eyes, I ask, “And how, exactly, do you plan on doing that?”
Turning to me, he gives me a mischievous grin, “Give me the name of a potential you’re thinking about, and I will tell you the dark secret they’re hiding.”
Tilting my head, I give him a curious expression. My first guess would have been that he would sabotage my chances with anyone else, given the whole evil villain thing. Tailoring his plans to fit my wants is a good idea, but I can’t imagine he’s going to tell me anything worse than something he’s done.
“Okay,” I say, surprising him. “Henry Wood, what terrible secret is he hiding?”
I talked with the boy, mostly as a favor to Anthony. Going to a Ball with the older brother of one of your few friends isn’t the best plan. He was nice enough, good looking, but not worth risking my friendship with Amanda.
I explained the whole situation to her, telling my friends the truth when I can is the only way for me to stay sane in this world. Lucky for me, Amanda couldn’t care less about her brother’s love life.
Riddle rolls his eyes, “That meat head? I’m surprised your standards are so low, he doesn’t have the brains to do anything nefarious. That being said, based on something Abraxas saw at the Gryffindor Quiditch shed, I think Henry Wood would rather go to the Ball with Andrew Appleby than you.”
That catches me off guard, especially given the immense lack of LGBTQ+ I’ve seen. The nonchalant way he tells me is another surprise. With wide eyes, I watch Riddle for any hint that he’s going to do something with that information. I don’t know Henry well, but I do feel very strongly about outing someone in a society that won’t accept them.
“Are you…What do you plan on doing with that information?” I ask hesitantly.
Riddle gives me a curious expression, but can’t answer as Slughorn steps up to the front of the room. He ends class and dismisses us, but this conversation cannot end here.
In a very out of character move, I stop Riddle before he can leave class, “Walk with me to Defense?”
The smug grin that stretches across his face is completely unnecessary, and I don’t miss his eyes darting to Abraxas before returning to me. I don’t bother to hide my sour expression. This isn’t a conversation I want to have, but one that I need to.
Offering me his arm, I let Riddle lead me out of the room. Mary and Anthony only roll their eyes when they see us leaving together, thankfully they aren’t that surprised. They’ve seen me walk with plenty of Slytherins to class before, they’ll simply ask me what happened at lunch or dinner.
“What do you plan on doing with that information?” I ask again once we are away from our classmates.
Riddle’s arrogant expression falters for a beat before his mask smoothes, “I just did what I planned to do. What do you think I’m going to with that information?”
Grinding my teeth together, I grip his arm tighter than is socially acceptable, “If I’m right that this world judges or makes life more difficult for gay people, then you could potentially make his life a lot harder. Whatever you want from me, just leave other people out of it. I won’t allow his secret to be spilled in retaliation to something I do, or don’t do.”
For the first time in this world, I actually threaten him. This isn’t a laughing matter, and I don’t like how his eyes roll when I glare at him. Squeezing his arm harder, I add a touch of werewolf strength, actually hurting him.
Riddle’s gaze snaps to mine, and I let my magic surround him. Even without having to use a wand, I’ve still been pretending to be less powerful than I actually am. Showing off just how different I am has been unnecessary, until now. When I let my eyes turn gold for a brief moment, I’m intensely satisfied to smell the fear saturating Riddle’s scent.
The interaction only lasts a couple seconds, and then I’m smiling at him with my usual baby blue eyes twinkling with mischief. He looks shocked, a little paler than usual, and I enjoy it more than I should.