Chapter 16
October 31st, 1943
Hope
“Hope, you look beautiful,” Henry Wood tells me as I exit the Ravenclaw tower.
“Thank you,” I sigh and spin for him. “Mary helped me get ready and pick out the dress. Do I…Is it okay? I won’t stick out, right?”
Shaking his head with a genuine smile, Henry says, “You have nothing to worry about. Well, you might be the best looking witch to show up, but that’s hardly your fault. However, no one would ever guess that you’re from a different world, I promise.”
My laughter echos in the hall, and I take the arm he offers me. Henry is a rather bulky guy, with big muscles filling out a wide frame. His usually messy, brown hair is slicked back and his dress robes are likely the height of fashion. But, to me, the outfit reminds me a bit of the Phantom of the Opera. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
On the way to the Great Hall, we talk about classes, joke about the coming Quidditch season, and I find myself relaxing next to him. There are no flutterings or heated glances, just a platonic stroll that doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Very unlike walking to class with the Slytherins.
“There you both are!” I hear Taylor shout when she sees us.
Waiting just outside the doors, my friends are congregated, and everyone looks amazing. Anthony seems to be in pure bliss, his arm wrapped around Taylor and her vibrant purple gown. Mary has on the green dress she picked out, and is on the arm of some handsome Gryffindor. They look happy enough, but if that changes, I won’t mind helping Mary make him regret it.
Amanda and Edward Bones are adorably hesitant in their stance and motions. Being as shy as she is, Amanda is blushing and looking at floor before she turns to smile at me. She looks halfway in love already, all worries about me and her brother seemingly absent.
Plenty of hugs are exchanged, people complimenting my blue gown that reminds me so much of the dress I wore for Miss Mystic Falls, the dress my Father once bought a girl he loved, and finally we enter the Hall.
A gigantic pumpkin sits in the center of the room, carved to be a grinning Jack-o’-latern, with students already dancing around it. A band plays music off to one side, round tables frame the dance floor, and so many magical decorations that my head spins. Black, orange, crystal ball center pieces, flying bats, twinkling lights, a blanket of fog on the floor, and festive snacks create a lively atmosphere.
“Here, this is our table,” Mary announces before claiming a seat.
Her date sits next to her, and I claim the seat on her other side. Amanda ends up next to her brother, Anthony and Edward Bones sitting close so they can talk Quidditch, while Taylor rolls her eyes and adding in her two cents when she wants. Henry ends up leaning against the table, joining the animated sports talk.
“Do you want to dance?” Edward asks Amanda.
She nods and I watch the couple join the others waltzing around the dance floor. My eyes wander the space, and I end up making eye contact with Dumbledore. He raises a glass in greeting, but I haven’t seen him in a minute. I’ll meet him for tea in his office every few weeks, but I realize I’ve been neglecting the man who took me in.
“I’m going to go say hello to Dumbledore,” I tell Henry.
Taking a break from the trash talk, his expression softens slightly when he looks at me, “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No,” I say with a light chuckle. “You might be my date tonight, but you’re under no obligation to stick by my side or introduce yourself to my keeper. Enjoy your conversation, I’ll be back soon.”
After he nods and smiles, I depart, making my way over to my Transfiguration Professor. I do feel slightly jilted that I don’t get him as a headmaster, but having him teach me every other day softens the blow considerably.
Tonight, he’s wearing bright red robes with mistletoe threaded through his beard. The twinkle is present in his eye as he smiles at me, leaning alone against a wall while he completes his chaperoning duties.
“Good evening, Sir,” I say with a big smile. “You look like you’re ready for Christmas.”
Dumbledore chuckles and pulls me into a hug, surprising me. Wrapping my arms around him, I can feel his laughter continue until he pulls away. Still holding one of my hands, he leads me in a spin before squeezing and dropping it.
“Well, don’t you look lovely, Hope. But, you are correct, I’ve always been partial to Christmas. Your memories of those movies inspired me, I do wish Hogwarts would hold the Ball just before the end of the semester so it could be Yule themed,” he tells me with a wistful smile.
Right, the Triwizard tournament had a Christmas Ball. Sighing in relief, I realize that I missed the dramatic entrance that Hermione was cursed with. Halloween has always been a favorite of mine, but it might be nice if that big pumpkin was swapped out with a Christmas tree.
Laughing with him, “Perhaps you can change that, I doubt moving a dance a month or two would damage your timeline too much.”
“You very well might be right,” he says, looking over my shoulder briefly and raising one eyebrow before turning back to me. “So, you haven’t told me. Who is lucky enough to escort you this evening?”
Shaking off the questioning look I’m giving him, I smile and motion towards my friends, “Henry Wood, Amanda’s brother. We’re just here as friends so I told him that he didn’t have to walk me over here. I’m honestly not sure how he might act with you tonight, and I wanted to skip the whole date meeting the father figure show down.”
“That is fair, we have found ourselves in an odd situation together,” Dumbledore sighs while his eyes scan the room. When he meets my gaze again, he has an odd air of determination, “Speaking of, I understand that I am far from your Father, however I have found myself growing rather…attached to you. I’ve found that I have missed you these last weeks, and, while I don’t believe I could see you as a daughter, perhaps I could fulfill the role of Uncle?”
Shock steals every word from my mouth, and I end up floundering like a fish. All of my focus has been on this year, dealing with the Slytherins while trying to feel normal before I inevitably die for a few hours. Thinking of the future has always scared me, mostly because no one has any idea what is going to happen once I’m a fully activated trybrid.
But, if I am going to have a life here, Albus Dumbledore isn’t a bad wizard to have in my corner. Although, if Dumbledore was attached to practically any character in the Harry Potter series, this could spell trouble for me.
“Don’t answer me now,” Dumbledore says after a beat of silence. “Simply think about it, you can let me know when we next meet for tea. After spending as much time together as we have, I would be saddened if we fall off after you graduate.”
Thankfully, my hesitance hasn’t effected his jovial attitude, and I smile, “I appreciate that, Albus.”
He blinks in surprise, that’s the first time I’ve used his first name like he’s asked. But, his smile softens infinitesimally, a second twinkle joining the first. Wrapping me back in arms, he hugs me before shooing me back to the party.
Weaving between couples and tables, I slowly make my way back to my friends. I spot Amanda, Edward, Mary, and her date out on the dance floor, looking elegant and carefree as they float around the space. Anthony and Taylor are talking with their heads so close together their foreheads nearly touch, but I don’t see Henry where I left him.
My worries are briefly forgotten when a hand pulls me from my path. My feet become wrapped in my dress, and I end up fully leaning my weight on this mystery person until I find my balance again. When I look up, I meet Tom Riddle’s smug gaze.
“What the hell, Riddle,” I grumble, fixing my skirt and corset bodice.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he says while his eyes roam my face. “I could easily tell you how enchanting you look tonight, however trying to encapsulate your beauty into words is a fruitless battle. The English language is simply lacking when it comes to you, my Darling.”
He chuckles at my dubious expression, taking the hand he’s still holding and putting it in the crook of his elbow. My fingers tingle as his body heat slowly trails up my arm, a reaction that was definitely not present when Henry picked me up at the tower.
My body isn’t this effected when the other Slytherins walk me to class, nor the few times that Anthony and I have walked through the halls alone together. It’s really starting to piss me off. Not wanting a scene, I let him lead me, at least until I realize he’s taking me to the dance floor.
Tugging on his arm to stop our journey, I whisper-yell, “Where do you think you’re taking me?”
“To dance,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Stepping closer, I’m careful to keep a smile on my face, “If you conveniently forgot, I have a date that I still need to dance with. In fact, I should go find him.”
My attempt to flee is immediately thwarted when his free hand stops me from slipping out of his grip. Not wanting to be a spectacle is getting rather difficult, so I don’t rip my hand out of his grip, but I also don’t continue walking.
Tom makes a show of looking around the room, “I don’t see your date. Surely if he abandoned you, he won’t mind if you dance with someone else.”
“What did you do,” I demand, violence dancing in my eyes despite my soft smile.
Somehow, Riddle’s smile only grows, “I haven’t done anything to your date, Hope. Are you going to blame me for every minor inconvenience that comes your way?”
Scoffing, “Please don’t insult my intelligence, Riddle. If you did anything to hurt Henry, I swear—”
“Relax,” Tom starts with a dramatic eye roll. “I believe Mr. Wood received word that Mr. Appleby wanted to discuss some Quidditch plans. Something about the quaffle, a need for new ball handling techniques.”
Turning away from his dancing eyebrows, I make sure to keep a frown on my face. Searching the room, I still don’t see Henry, but I also can’t find Andrew Appleby anywhere. Even if his story currently checks out, there’s a bad feeling in my stomach that keeps me from relaxing.
“Right, I’m sure that you’re just now remembering that,” I say skeptically. “I’m going to double check, just to be safe.”
Tightening his grip on me, “So that you can see something that would make most witches in this time faint? Imagine poor Henry’s reaction when his date finds him in the arms of another. Do you really want to spend the rest of your night assuring him about his preferences instead of enjoying your first Ball?”
I can’t stop my face from scowling. Riddle may or may not be tricking me, but he hasn’t given me a firm statement. Being able to tell if people are lying only really works when they don’t talk in, well, riddles.
“You’re going to keep talking me out of looking for him until I dance with you, am I right?”
A toothy grin sparkles in the lights, “You truly are a bright witch.”
This time, I don’t stop him when he pulls me to the dance floor. Despite my moderate efforts, my mouth stays decidedly in a frown, even as my eyes scan the room again. Much to my dismay, Riddle and I seem to have quite the audience for this dance.
Surrounded by the other couples, I begrudgingly place my hands where they should be, and don’t run away when his hand rests on my lower back. It doesn’t matter that his cologne adds rosemary and oak moss musk to his scent, nor does the way his warm breath brushes against my done up hair. What matters is not making a spectacle out of myself, which unfortunately means dancing with Riddle.
The music starts, and I allow him to lead. Whisking me around the room, I ensure my attention stays on the spectators instead of my dance partner. Walburga Black, for one, looks nearly murderous as she ignores whoever her short date is. My friends all seem irritated, but not with me. No, their glares are all set on Riddle.
“This is just a dance, Hope,” Riddle sighs, pulling me centimeters closer to him. “You’re acting like I’m going to fulfill your favor right here in front of the whole school.”
Looking at him, I find near exasperation on his face, “If you want a dance partner that isn’t stiff, I’m sure I can help you compile a list?”
That makes him chuckle before leaning to whisper in my ear, “If I wanted to dance with another witch, I can assure you that I would.”
Ignoring the heat assaulting my face, I ask, “Why do you want to dance with me? It’s not like I’m dumb enough to let a few spins around the dance floor effect my overall attitude. Why bother?”
Riddle frowns, studying me like a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. We continue to spin, the music floating around us, the light cords a direct contrast to our tense movements. I can understand the hunt for answers, everything about me is a mystery and I’m the only key. It’s everything else I can’t wrap my head around.
Being my Potions partner; we have to spend hours together a week, where he hasn’t gleamed one answer from me. Staying for my transformation would make sense if he wanted to hear me tortured, but then he would have gloated or at least seemed pleased. After days of me ignoring him, Riddle wasn’t even angry, he only wanted to learn.
Now, there’s this dance that he clearly schemed into reality. He might be evil, sadistic, and overall a villain, but Tom Riddle is not stupid. He’s smart enough to figure out that I’m notoriously tight lipped, I can’t imagine his plan is to flirt his way into my confidence. That might work on witches focused on frivolous crap, but I’ve already been tricked by a handsome face and pretty words.
“Because I can’t seem to stop,” he breathes, bringing me out of my thoughts. “Because, the more I learn, the more I need to know.”
He doesn’t look happy to tell me this, if anything, Riddle seems pissed at his own declaration. As if he hadn’t realized the truth of his statement until this moment, as if my question prompted a deeper comprehension of his subconscious.
“You’re more impressive than I thought,” I hear myself saying as the music concludes.
Riddle bows and then cocks his head to the side, “How so?”
Stepping into his personal space, I lightly place my hands on his chest while looking up into his eyes, “Very few can act as well as you can.”
Before he can react, I walk away, swaying through the crowd without so much as a glance backwards. Scanning the room, I search for a friendly face. My date is still no where to be found, which is suspicious. Dumbledore is chatting with some other chaperons, laughing boisterously at something Dippet just said.
Mary and her date are on the dance floor, looking too happy to bother with my sour mood. Only managing a glance at Anthony, I have to look away when he sticks his tongue in Taylor’s mouth. Happy for them, but nauseous for me. When I spot Amanda and Edward chatting at our table, relief floods me.
My steps are determined, I can make it to our table. Amanda will help me find her brother, I’ll get to dance with my date, have fun with my friends, and finally go back to the tower. No more Tom Riddle making me feel. I knew he was evil, but talk about crossing a line.
“Just who I was looking for!” I hear before I’m accosted. Again.
Suddenly, I’m arm in arm with someone tugging me in the opposite direction I was heading in. A yelp escapes me as I tumble into a broad frame, chuckles make the surface vibrate. Once I right myself, I realize Abraxas Malfoy is my new obstacle.
“I’m in the middle of something,” I tell him, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Unless you’re going to help me find my date.”
Malfoy laughs harder this time, “Why ever would I do that? When what I truly want is to dance with you.”
The glare I send his way turns his chuckles into coughs, “I’m not dancing with you, I’ve already been interrupted. I’m going to find out what you did with Henry.”
Using my strength, I rip my arm from his hold and stalk away. Right now, I’m so pissed that I couldn’t care less about making a scene. Amanda is too far away, I can’t risk another Slytherin getting in my way. So, I power walk to the closest exit, nearly tripping over my skirt in the process.
As soon as I’m through the archway, I feel like a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I start walking decidedly in a direction until I find some portraits. Asking them for help does me no good, so I try another hallway. Then another. And another.
Letting out an irritated growl, I head to the third floor. I pass classroom after classroom, until I start to hear voices ahead, around a corner. Slowing down, I inch closer, sliding silently against the wall. Peaking around just enough to see, I nearly gasp when I spot Lestrange and Dolohov hanging out.
I can make out their voices, but can’t figure out their words. Dolohov is leaning against a classroom door, while Lestrange absently explodes paper birds he must have summoned. Why aren’t they at the dance?
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I whip my head around to look behind my back. With silent steps, Tom Riddle strolls up to me with far too much ease for my liking.
“Determined little thing, aren’t you?” he asks low enough that his followers won’t hear.
Ignoring the quip and crossing my arms, I glare at him, “Did you lock Henry is that classroom?”
“Me?” Riddle asks when he’s an arm length away, a hand covering his chest in mock indignation. “I would never, I am a prefect, I’ll have you know.”
Rolling my eyes, I cock my hip, “Oh please, as if I’d believe that.”
“I swear on my magic that I did not lock your date in a classroom,” he tells me with a smile that almost seems real. When my only response is a skeptical look, Riddle steps closer to me, “However, Lestrange may have informed your date that a certain gentleman would be waiting for him in the History of Magic classroom.
“There’s also a slight chance that Dolohov slipped a note to a Mr. Appleby requesting a steamy rendezvous in men’s handwriting. If only I hadn’t requested that classroom be sealed and silenced until the end of the dance, my men truly are sneaky little snakes. It seems your date is merely the victim of unfortunate circumstances, being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The innocent sigh he lets out fans my face, and my eyes close against my wishes. Hanging onto my anger with both hands, I push away how my insides curl and preen in his presence. How his breath smells like a minty dessert that has my mouth watering. When I look at him again, I make sure my glare is sharp and biting.
“Let them go,” I practically growl.
Riddle rolls his eyes, but takes another step into my space. This time I back up, needing more air that isn’t tainted with his scent. When my back hits a stone wall, my eyes go wide, and a hand reaches out to rest beside my head.
“Why did you think I was acting?” he asks, his eyes intently studying every minute reaction that crosses my face.
My brain takes a moment to recall what he’s talking about, and confusion takes over. I’m trying to get to Henry, and he’s worried about how he came off during a dance I didn’t want? What?
I just wanted to feel like a regular, teenage girl tonight. I don’t care that my date is gay and only took me because he couldn’t go with who he wanted. I don’t care that I wasn’t going to get a kiss goodnight, that the only people who wanted to dance with me had complete ulterior motives, or that I haven’t found a single trustworthy person in this entire school who could give me better sexual experiences. But I do care that even when I try so hard to be normal, I still can’t be.
Someone will always want something from me, someone will always get in the way or lie. Even my date that clearly cares for someone else isn’t safe from being collateral damage in the race to get to me. And I’m tired.
“Because…because I’m just a mystery you want solved, a curiosity you want sated! Because you’re just like everyone else that has hunted me for my powers. If you think I haven’t figured that out, you’re sorely mistaken. You want what every other power hungry monster from my world wants; to bleed me dry of my abilities and then dispose of me.
“Do you think that you’re the first handsome boy to flirt with me as a distraction? Do you think I’m not aware that listening to you, that trusting you, can only lead to me and those I care about being hurt? Do you think I’m dumb enough to believe that the self absorbed, lady’s man of the school actually cares for me? Just do me a favor and LEAVE ME ALONE!” I end up screaming into his face.
Breathing heavily, I feel the anger crumble from my expression, leaving miserable exhaustion in it’s place. Dropping my eyes, I stare decidedly at the skirt of my dress while I try with everything in me to put my walls back up. To let rage take over again.
Before I can get a hold of myself, foreign fingers caress my jaw before lightly lifting my chin. Trying to harden my gaze, I allow the action, if only to glare at him again. But, when I see his face, see the…compassion etched into his features, the surprise steals the breath from my lungs.
Looking from one eye to other, before I can process how much closer he’s gotten or the determination in his gaze, his lips crash into mine. He swallows my gasp, my tongue is assaulted with the minty taste of Tom, and then he moans. Logical thought shuts off, my eyes close, and then I’m kissing him back.
My hands end up on his shoulders, feeling the thick muscles hidden beneath his dress robes. Our lips and tongues dance chaotically, hungrily, and his hand under my chin takes hold of my jaw, angling me how he wants. Fire shoots through my veins, scorching me from the inside out, burning the oxygen from my lungs as quickly as I can breath it in.
His other hand wraps around my waist, pulling me flush with his body. I’m surrounded by him, his hold on me, his scent, his taste, and somehow my fingers end up tangled in his curls. Once I realize it, all I can think about is how soft the coils are, how different everything about him feels compared everything I’ve experienced.
Then just as quickly as it started, he pulls back from me just enough to rest his forehead against mine. His breath merges with mine, and the sound of him panting sends a shiver down my spine.
“I can’t say that you weren’t right, that would be a lie,” Riddle manages between ragged breaths. “However, that’s no longer the full story. I want more than your magic and secrets, Hope. I want you.”