Black Magic

In the half-light cast by the flames of ghost-candles and spectre-torches of the dormitory Tom cut a startling figure, dressed darkly reposed on his bed turning a slender black journal over and over in his hands, running his fingers along the spine, stroking the slightly undulating cover. Through the half-open door the strangled cries of a first-year being teased by a group of older students tumbled into the chamber and after a moment, letting the sounds ring through and turn to silence, Tom slid off the bed, pausing only to tuck the diary under his pillow and allow one last lingering glance to pass over it. A frisson of muted pride and he left the room to stride into the common room where hush instantly fell and where he raised one unimpressed eyebrow at the scene, at that first-year seemingly suspended mid-air by one ankle and at the boy, wand hovering, unsure, the perpetrator of the crime.

"Come, Daniel, you should know better," Tom pouted, nodding his head towards the boy who quickly withdrew his wand and allowed the boy to go tumbling to the ground. A chorus of laughter, amused faces in the shadow, and Tom crouched down beside the the tortured child, frowning slightly, as the sixth-year backed away, biting his lip.
"Are you hurt?" The boy shook his head, blushing, and Tom clapped him on the shoulder, murmuring so only he could hear, "You' ll know next time not to mess with Sixth years, won't you?"
"But I didn't do anything," the boy blurted, seemingly unable to hold his tongue.
"We only get what we deserve," Tom said with a creeping half-smile and stood up, announcing, "He's alright, he's fine." Hard for him to conceal his true delight at that sixth-year's cunning, hard for him to deny if he'd had his way it would have gone on like that for quite a while longer. Equally hard for him to ignore the fact that ostensibly he had to at least feign care about the welfare of the kids who, most of the time, grated on him, but he strode out of the common room with his Head Boy badge shining, eyes glittering too as they lifted to the ceiling.

A few corridors away Millie was stretching her aching legs, returned less than an hour ago from a trip to Hogsmeade where she'd collected the last of her things for the ball. She'd put up a reasonably cordial front with her friends- particularly Louisiana, who seemed unshakably upbeat- and felt tired, a little lonely as she ran her fingers along the rough cold stone of the walls as she lazily wound her way towards the Dining Hall. She cut an oddly isolated figure pitched against the grey and the gloom and you could see it in her face, she felt it, the gloom of the castle as it seeped through her very skin and chilled her.

Footsteps ahead and she looked up; why couldn't she stop that smile as it slid onto her face, why couldn't she better conceal her obvious delight? Tom seemed to provoke feelings in her that she couldn't control, couldn't hope to get a hold on, all stomach-flipping and heart-thudding as he hurried towards her.

"Fancy seeing you here." His voice was sharp but has undertones of smooth melting satisfaction. "Do you take a walk in this part of the castle often?"
"All the time since I've known you. Why else would I be here?" Millie wanted to reply but held her tongue, saying coyly instead, "I was just stretching my legs."
"Of course, I forgot you'd need to do that after having been on your feet all day."
"Quite."
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
"I suppose so."
"The rest of your female peers seem reasonably pleased, either way." Tom paused before he offered her his arm and said, "Are you walking?"
Millie nodded and tucked her arm under and around his, smiling to herself, eyes closing slightly with the pleasure that suffused her, pupils dilating almost in shock that so quickly her trepidation about being with him had failed, replaced with bubbling excitement deep in the pit of her stomach, the sort that felt too good for her to scold herself at its existence, the sort that could only be bathed in, enjoyed, reveled in.
Tom watched her closely for a moment before he said quietly, "I don't suppose you know how Richard is, do you?"
Millie looked at him sharply, brow wrinkled for a moment before she said, "You mean Rick?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't know- he came out of the hospital wing a few days ago. But shouldn't you know? He's your friend..."
"We haven't really been talking." A shy smile, just a touch of genuine worry behind his otherwise placid expression. Millie had the sense that he was trying to illicit a response from her, one she wasn't sure she could give.
"Tom," she said, turning to him a little, a sinister chill rushing through her, "Is there something that I should-"
"Mr. Riddle." Both their heads jerked up to see the professor standing in front of them, beard neatly plaited, intelligent eyes shining.
"Professor Dumbledore," Tom said, averting his gaze, clearly ruffled. Millie looked at him, incredulous.
"I do hope you're escorting Miss. Dalerup here to the Hall. You're already rather late."
"Yes, sir. That's exactly what I'm doing, sir." His hand brushed hers as it clenched into what Millie noticed was a fist; her fingers instinctively moved against his in an effort to calm him, it was a brash move, a daring move, she knew, and she was equally as surprised when he made a sudden movement and enfolded her hand in his.
"Good. Off you go, then." Tom nodded once more before he pulled Millie along with him, tugging her closer as he moved off at speed, glancing over his shoulder, apparently eager to be away.
"I don't like him," Tom said as they rounded the corner int the entrance to the Great Hall. "He's so pompous and overbearing."
"No," Millie replied, bemused, "No, I don't think so, I think he's far from that." Tom yanked his hand out of her grip, allowing a cold stare which crushed all protests rising in Millie to settle over her before he murmured,
"Let's go and eat, shall we?" Millie nodded, scuttling behind him as they strode into the Hall just in time for the food to appear and it wasn't until that moment, bombarded with hundreds of curious looks that Millie realised just what it meant to be walking in like this, right now, with him, and she wasn't guilty as she slid into her usual seat between Louisiana and her sister, Lucy, who looked at Millie with wide eyes as if she was as surprised as Millie herself that Tom Riddle wanted to spend time with her.

Only Will looked crushed, turning away from Millie's look as she lifted it across the table to him. But a glance over her shoulder which met directly with Tom's reminded her that she would never again have to worry about Will because he was otherwise occupied, at least in her mind. His dark eyes were the only thing on her mind as she sat there, and they followed her to bed where they haunted her until the early hours of the morning when she finally fell asleep- and dreamt only of ebony crows in a midnight sky and his laugh sounding through and through the dark.