Life and Limb

Marie wasn’t one for cursing mindlessly, but that’s all she could think of doing as she paced her room that evening, looking more like a maniac than anything else. There was a little voice in the back of her mind, taunting her, yelling at her that she’d been a fool to leave that book in the girls’ bathroom, especially with Tom and his friends there. Why hadn’t she hidden it under her robes? Concealed the cover from view? Attempted to bring it with her, and lied that it was only an Arithmancy book?

Because I panicked, that’s why, Marie thought to herself bitterly.

Yes, she panicked, and now look where that got her. Lord only knew what would happen if Tom got his hands on that book. Would he be furious with her for delving deeper into a subject that he obviously wanted her to drop? Maybe he’d go so far as to report her to a professor and have her expelled. He certainly seemed angry enough earlier, acting as though she’d been purposely spying on him. Maybe his master plan was to get her expelled again, so she would leave him alone for good.

The thought made Marie panic some more before she threw herself down on the green couch and tried to calm herself. Tom wasn’t the type of person to go crying to a teacher when things started going sour. He seemed like he would want to handle problems on his own. Whether that was healthy or not, Marie couldn’t really say, but she knew that this would at least keep her safe from expulsion.

An idea began to grow in Marie’s mind. Tom wasn’t the type of person to report everything to the professors. He seemed to really like his privacy, and he certainly didn’t like drawing attention to himself when it came to the rules and regulations of Hogwarts. The look he had given her earlier, when he had her trapped, was a sign that no matter how tough he sounded, he wouldn’t hurt Marie. He didn’t seem to have it in him. It was almost as though he liked having a reason to yell at her, as twisted as it seemed. But that was Tom, wasn’t it? He was twisted.

Marie began absentmindedly walking towards the boys’ dormitory. If Tom liked keeping the professors as far from his personal problems as possible, then what better way to convince herself that sneaking into his stuff was a good idea?

It wasn’t. It was a stupid, suicidal, idiotic idea, and she knew it. But it was also the only way she could figure out what the hell Tom was doing with those boys Avery and Lestrange, and why they were in the girls’ bathroom, and what the bloody hell did a Horcrux do, anyway?

Checking the watch on her wrist, Marie saw that it would soon be time for Herbology class with Beery. The Slytherins would all be heading to the greenhouses, and that was quite a trek, so they all would’ve left the Slytherin dormitories by now. If luck was on Marie’s side today, the boys’ room would be empty. Marie wasn’t one for skipping class, but this was another matter entirely.

She prayed to herself silently as she climbed the stone staircase to the sixth year boys’ dormitory.

Please, please don’t let Tom catch me. And if he does, please let it be only a mild hex and not a full-blown curse that he uses.

She reached the dormitory and was surprised to find that she had a hard time figuring out which of the six beds belonged to Tom. She wasn’t sure why, but she had assumed that he would have giant sigils and evil markings everywhere, maybe even a bedspread with mean-looking pixies on them. The only giveaway item that this was Tom’s side of the room was the trunk with the monogram ‘T.M.R.’

Unlike the other boys’ things, Tom’s stuff was organized and neat. His bed was crisply made with not a wrinkle on it. His books were organized by alphabetical listing according to the author’s last name, and his notebooks were stacked on his desk according to size. A jar filled with extra quills occupied the top left corner, and the top right corner had an inkpot.

“Someone’s a neat freak,” Marie muttered, glancing over at the other boys’ unmade beds and messy desks.

Without further ado, she approached the desk with caution, avoiding the bed as much as possible lest she bump into it and ruin the fine making. She wouldn’t put it past Tom to notice that there was a wrinkle in his bed sheets and make the correct assumption that she’d been there.

The books seemed relatively normal. She did, after all, have most of the same classes as him, and so she recognized plenty of the titles. There were a few that she wasn’t familiar with, but she figured that they were for Tom’s extra classes; in any case, they didn’t have suspicious titles like How to be a Royal Asshole for Wizards, or Using Violence in Your Everyday Life to Get What You Want.

She turned her attention to the contents on the desk rather than the mini bookshelf. Blank parchments galore. It looked as though there was not a single piece of Tom Riddle that identified his presence here. It was completely maddening.

She was about to turn and leave when something underneath Tom’s immaculately fluffed white pillow caught her eye: a swash of black. A notebook?

Marie pulled it out and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

A diary. Tom Marvolo fucking Riddle had a diary.

Without thinking twice, she opened it up and saw that most of it was filled in. His handwriting was as neat as ever, but there seemed to be some sort of desperation that he splashed across every page, as though his time was running out every second.

She flipped through, wanting to soak in as much as possible, when she reached the last entry he wrote in. It was near the end of the diary and it was dated the night of the Halloween dance. There was only one thing written:


She stared, dumbstruck, at the words spilled across the page as though Tom had opened a vein and bled ink all over it. Surely this was about her. She couldn’t imagine any other female getting on Tom’s nerves as much as she did. But if that was true, then the rest of it must be...

Thoroughly disturbed and slightly nauseous, Marie shoved the diary back under the pillow, not caring about messing up the bed anymore. She turned on her heel and raced out of the boys’ dormitory as fast as she could, heading straight across the common room. There was still time to get to Herbology and forget about any of this, still time to make it to class and come up with some excuse for being a few minutes late –

The statue guarding the entrance to the Slytherin common room slid to the side just as Marie reached it and she barreled headlong into the student trying to get in. Together, they tumbled to the ground.

“Fugazi!” Tom snapped at her (Of course it’s Tom, Marie groaned inwardly). “Where’s the bloody fire?”

“Sorry.” She picked herself up and tonelessly apologized before turning away from him. She didn’t want to look at his face.

“Hey.” He caught her arm. “You look sick. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m feeling fine, Tom, now if you’d just let me get to class –”

“...No, I think I’d better take you up to the hospital wing.” He changed his grip from her arm to her wrist and began pulling her up the dungeon stairs. He began muttering under his breath: “Figures. I go back for my class books and who do I find interfering –”

“Interfering?” Marie interrupted indignantly. “You’re the one who volunteered to drag me to the hospital wing, not me!”

“Yes, well, I didn’t think you’d want to show up to class with your hands looking like that.”

“My hands? What about...”

She trailed off as she looked down at her hands, which were now a bright green color. She gasped and frantically wiped them off on her robes, but of course that did no good.

“You really didn’t think I’d leave my most prized possession unprotected, did you?” The smile Tom gave her chilled her to the core. “So tell me, Marie, what did you read in my diary that you found so interesting?”

Marie’s knees nearly gave out from under her; she hadn’t realized this, of course. How stupid of her. Of course Tom would curse everything he owned. She tried to get her hand back from him but his grip on her wrist only tightened and he began pulling her along with much more force.

She ignored his question (the answer terrified her, and if she spoke of it aloud Lord only knew what would happen to her then) and posed one of her own: “You’re...you’re not bringing me to the hospital wing, are you?”

Tom shook his head. “Oh no. We’re going someplace else.”

Marie blanched. “W-What? Why?”

“I’d think it’s obvious, Fugazi. I believe there are a few things we need to talk about. The first, of course, being the obvious: why were you going through my fucking things?” He didn’t let her respond, but instead plowed on. “You have until we reach our destination to figure out an answer to that one. And it better damn well be a good one.”

He didn’t have to add ‘or else.’ Marie could hear it at the end of the sentence, hanging ominously in the air, ready to cut her throat.