Serpentine

It's not the warm, wonderous reunion he'd imagined various times in his daydreams expected. She's still colder than she was before she discovered the bracelet was in his possession. But now she looks at him when he addresses her--Rather, now he actually addresses her and she allows him to. The idea that he needs her permission to do anything is, while irritating, well accepted. The younger highblooded crowd doesn't notice, but his seniors certainly do. Subtleties only begin to register after fourth year, it seems.

His usual cohort, however, certainly notices. They even make room for her to sit down whenever she nears their lunch table (she's yet to accept the sitdown invitation), with minimal quips from Katux and Druella. When she's gone is when their absurd twittling begins. Cheeky this and rude that and can't they just shut up for longer than five seconds about Ximena, he'll hex off their teeth.

One look is enough to shut them up. In the future, it'll be enough to keep them from talking.

Hedwig, while teasing and annoying, at least is respectful. Sort of. As much as her vulgar self can be. She never calls Ximena anything she wouldn't call her own sister. Or himself. Which still includes a glossary of crude words. He sees them sometimes walking out of the girl's side of the dormitory together--Hedwig chatting to her about pureblood culture the same way she taught him before. A strange parallel. But good. It's another proper step to place Ximena into his inner circle. Another thing he can relate to with her. He's already thinking about the shared topics of conversation.

On the other hand, there's Nemesis. She smiles when she looks at Ximena, and she looks relieved when she sees that she and he are speaking again. Is this what selflessness is like? To want your friend to be happy beyond your own wants? Strange. She still looks at him wistfully, though. That's annoying. He almost wishes he never told her the courtship was fake. Nemesis is well-raised enough to not encroach. And not brave enough to confess and try to fight for him. But oh well. Hindsight and all that. What's important is that Nemesis makes Ximena feel welcome, even if it does seem like the two of them are closer to each other than they are to him these days...

Evan is the odd one. He doesn't comment at all. Merely greets Ximena cordially as he would any other pureblooded girl. Naturally, he suspects that Ximena is suspicious of this, because he hardly acknowledged her before all this--And with the whole Ian incident, well, it's probably in her best interest to be wary. And that's smart. He expects that of her. Even if she should learn to trust the same people he does.

It's good to know his closest company knows how to behave. It tells him he chooses his people well. Just like he chose Ximena well. Even if she's not on board yet.

As for his Puff, she's congratulated him on 'doing the right thing'. Even gave him a little wink (of all things) and asked how the biscuits were--And that's when he remembers that he made them. For Ximena. From scratch--He had dropped them aside to pay attention to Ximena's impromptu lecture. And...They ate them. They were good. They had ginger in them[1]. Not too sweet. A lovely, soft texture that crumbled in his mouth. She didn't comment on them, but she ate them without complaint (why hasn't she commented on them? Did she eat them to be polite? Did she hate them? He was sure she'd like them--) so…

Tom thanked Elle for her guidance. And advice. She really did know what she was talking about. In food, transfiguration, and matters of friendship. An excellent choice in Puff, he's lucky he was able to snatch her up when he did. Why wasn't she in higher demand with his fellow Slytherins? Oh right, her blood. Typical. Overlooking such brilliance for something so arbitrary. He'll fix that.

As for Elle, he should do something nice for her. To show his appreciation. Repay his debt. Of course, it would usually be enough to have him as a snake, but she deserves more than that. Perhaps he can do her a favor? It is because of her (partly) that he's able to sit here and be an actual participant in this conversation.

"Of course, you can't transfigure real food, it would have no nutritional value." Elle sips her water, passing mustard over to Ximena.

Ximena nods, "Of course." And her voice in a conversation has never sounded sweeter to him.

At lunch chats with Elle, Ximena no longer closes off her body to him. Instead of only facing his Puff, she merely angles herself towards her food--And like a barrier is lifted, Tom finds himself engaging in the conversation without feeling like he's intruding or overstepping his boundaries. And...Has it always been this much fun talking with Elle? With Ximena? Exchanging ideas on transfiguration and picking the brains of students who've been in more advanced classes. Students who understand him and his need to consume knowledge. Who don't patronize him and actually challenge him.

He needed this. Fuck. Why didn't he say he was sorry earlier? He could stay like this for hours.

"Wouldn't the transfigured object be lighter than if it was organic?" Tom leans over the table, a half-eaten roll in his hand, "If I transfigured a pebble into a boulder, wouldn't it still be lighter regardless? Where does the added mass come from?"

It's lovely when he doesn't have to explain what mass is. Elle and Ximena just know.

"You're forgetting your first lesson learned in second year Transfiguration, Tom." Elle begins, her hands folded together, "...Unless Dumbledore's changed his lesson plans again."

"He does like to revise them a lot." Ximena agrees.

Elle continues, "It's not known how wizards can manipulate physics like that. Research hasn't been done–Unfortunately, it seems like they're not interested in the properties of transfiguration outside of what aids them."

Tom deflates, "Why bother figuring out why it has these properties if it works whether we know or not?"

They've never breached the subject in Transfiguration. And here he was beginning to think of Dumbledore as a competent teacher.

He's noticed Tom's change in attitude as well. Commented on it during class with a smile, 'you're looking chipper today, Mister Riddle' and 'so good to see you in higher spirits'. It's infuriating. Can't he let up on him for one second? Is he this heavy on other students?

He watches Ximena's hands applying salt to her cod–Speaking animatedly to Elle about why she thinks conjuring water is different from conjuring food. Her hands are pleasing. He likes them. When they cast, when they cook, when they showed him the runes she so meticulously embroidered onto a robe she so carefully marked.

...Has Dumbledore talked to her? Have her classmates (friends?) noticed any changes? Do they care? Does anyone aside from him care?

Elle laughs, something awkward but charming–A newborn horse learning to walk type of awkward and charming, at something Ximena says. He doesn't ask for her to repeat it. Instead, he basks in the moment.

He serves himself another piece of shepherd's pie.

-

Here's a fact: Tom Riddle is a Slytherin. He protects himself first, and takes care of his court. What's best for him and his, and what's fair for everyone else. If people follow his will, life is good to them because he will be good to them. If people choose to oppose him, life will suddenly be very difficult. He rewards loyalty and ingenuity, and punishes insubordination and shortsightedness.

Here's another fact: Tom Riddle does not have a crush on Ximena Lane. This, he's repeated to himself numerous times, and it never stops being true. Wouldn't he be obsessing over her if that was the case? Laying awake at night and dreaming constantly? Continuously thinking up ways to capture her attention? That's right. And he's done none of that.

What he has done is split his time between wondering about her and his school life. Occasionally finding her in dreams. Every so often realizing a topic that she might like or want to be aware of.

And isn't a crush not supposed to make sense? Be out of the blue? If he were to have a feeling for her (outside of frustration and curiosity), wouldn't it make complete sense? Wouldn't it be normal? She's a Slytherin, like he is, has a good head on her shoulders (if not forgetful), and doesn't look like a troll. He's never heard her gossip, bully, or spread rumors about another person. Never has she spoken down to him or purposefully taught him to do something the wrong way out of maliciousness or jealousy.

She's interesting. It's always something new with her. Even when she’s boring, she...She always finds something new to engage him again. Always another page to turn. Another stone lifted. It's...entertaining. Her books and stories keep him engaged and learning. Discovering new ways to utilise magic. Bend it to his will. Dominate it and make it his.

So really, he doesn't understand why people think he has a crush on her.

She owes him that talk. Still. Misplacing him. Forgetting him. Sometimes he thinks it's an act she puts on, but then he remembers the look on her face when they met again on the train and he thinks no. No one could be that good of an actor. Not even him. Not yet, anyways, he would have to practice. But, oh, wouldn't it be so much more easier if she was pretending? That her amnesiac brain was a farce placed up to guard some dark secret? Sometimes he believes that, when he wants an excuse to follow her and pry her secrets out of her hands. He wants to believe that he's doing it to find out what she's hiding. What she's buried in her past. But other days not so much. Other days, he remembers that she is a child. Only thirteen.

Oh wait, no, she's fourteen. Today is her birthday.

He has no gift, not this time, but he finds her anyways and hopes she won't sit up to move somewhere else when he pulls out a chair beside her in the library. When she doesn't notice him, he speaks.

"Happy Birthday."

A beat. Two. Then three blinks, and she's out of her daze, looking for whoever spoke to her, "Oh." Oh it's you is what that tone says. It reminds him that she hasn't forgiven him. That he's not out of the woods yet, "Thank you."

There's no warmth in her voice. But it's better than how it was before, "Have any plans?"

She puts the book down on the table, open, "I was going to go for some ice cream at Hogsmeade later."

I wish you could come to Hogsmeade, there’s this ice cream parlor you would love, they have so many flavors...I’ll tell you what: we can go together next year, if you’d like.

"That sounds fun." He sounds wistful on purpose. Not because he actually is. "Going with anyone?"

A shrug, nonchalant, "Everyone's busy."

"Too busy to be with you on your birthday?"

Ximena remains unbothered, "School is important. And there's a Quidditch game today." That's right, Gryffindor versus Slytherin again, "Not a big deal."

And she's not lying. Her voice doesn't waver, she doesn't sniffle, try to hide her face or wipe away brimming tears. She's snacking on a bowl of raisins she snuck in and underlining passages in the book before her (was that a library book? Is she allowed to do that?)

"I should have known. You've always enjoyed solitude."

"Mm." Ximena hums, pressing her lips together, and she does reply not anymore.

It's a very different atmosphere than their usual silences––That is, their usual silences before she realized he had the bracelet. Before, it was comfortable. He'd find moments to speak without worrying if she'd bother to reply. But what hangs between them right now is heavier. Thicker.

"...I wanted to thank you. For saving my life." This doesn't come out without him thinking. Before he can realize what he is saying. This is something that has been turning over and over in his mind, constantly. Since that night. Since she went on trial. Since he sat before the Wizengamot. He really is grateful. It's not an emotion he feels often.

And her look of bemusement, of utter confusion hurts him more than he can think. But then she opens her mouth, "Of course. Why are you thanking me?" Oh. So she didn't forget. She knows what he's talking about. "You were my friend." Oh. "And even if you weren't--Well, I acted...on instinct. It's only right." Another shrug, "You don't owe me a life debt." Oh. So she's aware of what people have been saying… "Hedwig and Nemesis told me."

So they're on a first name basis now? For how long has it been that way? "What else have they told you?" He folds his hands on the table and leans in.

Another shrug, she hasn't noticed his approach, how close can he get? "They've kept me in the know about things happening around me."

"Like?"

She keeps snacking, "Whatever it is that purebloods talk about." Her hand tosses the subject away as Tom deflates a little, "Gossip, culture, engagements..."

He perks up again, "Enagements?"

"Someone named Olivander is eloping with an Abbott."

Not at all what he wanted to know, he couldn't care less, "You actually pay attention to that sort of thing?"

"I've been known to occasionally pay attention."

She's sassing him again. That's a good sign. "True." His fingers drum on the table, "You have." Though not to him. Not enough. "Anything more fascinating in the grapevine?"

"Hedwig says someone is sneaking in Muggle contraband."

Goddammit why doesn't she just--

"Why don't you ask what you want to ask?" Fuck. "I hate it when you try to bait me like that."

Tom sucks his teeth, jaw stiffening. He'd forgotten this side of her. Half of him hates it. The other half… "What have you heard about our fake courtship?"

It's been on his mind. How could it not be? It's not a strange thing to be curious about. Not strange or weird. She's not...She wouldn't judge him. Why would she judge him?

"The same things you've heard, I expect."

He presses his mouth into a thin line, "I'm sorry it's happening. I didn't intend for...For the return to result in that."

"That's not something to apologise for, but I forgive you." For that only. "It got people to stop talking about the trial--For a small while, anyways." She sighs, "And now with this stupid list, I think I'll return to relative anonymity by the time fourth year comes around."

Not if he has anything to say about it, "Working on your vocabulary?"

"You remembered."

"Of course."

"Hm."

He doesn't know what that means. Is that good? Bad? Does it win him points?

"Why do you hide?"

Ximena scoffs, light and airy, "You've asked me that before." Has he? Yes, it doesn't make sense that he'd wait this long to ask it. He remembers now.

"You're better in darkness?"

"It wasn't much of an answer, was it?"

Absolutely not. But it was enough to satiate him at the time. It was mysterious. Elusive. He liked that about her. It was at the beginning of their...friendship. Where he tolerated it the most. Now, though––

"Can I know why?"

She looks up at him. It takes him by surprise. Seizes him. Threatens to suffocate and envelop him whole. And it's ridiculous that he actually freezes because he's looked into her eyes before. Three times. Sixteen, if he counts the times they made eye contact in dreams. It's not strange that he's kept count. It happens so rarely that it makes sense that he keep count.

But despite his rising anxiety, he does not look away. He looks back, greedy to absorb any and all expressions on her face. He wants her to look at him. Because she's been doing it so little this past school year. The entire time she's known him, actually. Is it too much to ask for her to just look at him? Constantly give him her whole attention?

"No."

In the future, looking back, he'll think it stupid to believe that she would have told him.

Once he dismisses himself from her presence, he wonders how easily it'll be to trail her in Hogsmeade next year. Is it crowded? Busy? A lot of open space? Will others notice him just as they noticed him tagging alongside her his first year? Will they still be mistaken as a couple if he walks alongside her, talking and sharing silence?

Will he even still attend Hogwarts next year, with all the children being shipped off to the north? With the promise of bombings? Will people remember him if he doesn't show up? Will Ximena remember him if he never comes back?

The thought makes his throat tighten.

"Tom." A tense voice greets. He turns his head--Her body language is coiled. Eyes constantly blinking, "Good evening."

Is it? He's had a strange mid-day, and is in no mood to deal with her, "Druella."

"How are...How are you?" She strains to ask, as if it's causing her pain. Hm.

"Busy as a bee, as usual. But faring well. And yourself?"

"Oh I'm...getting by..." She swallows, "...I saw you were talking to Lane."

"Eavesdropping is unbecoming of you, Druella." His voice is teasing, but he's very peeved that his private conversation was being watched in any capacity.

Drualla takes offense. Her shoulders tighten, lips twist like she's tasted something sour, "I wanted to speak with you on something when I saw you were busy so I decided not to interrupt because I wasn't raised in a shed."

Ah. She's throwing a tantrum. Very well. Tom sits across from her, his hands propped up on the table, "Speak."

Druella unravels. As emotionally vulnerable as she was during Halloween. As composed as she's ever been before him. The speech feels prepared, actually. The pauses and points and gestures. If he didn't know any better, he would think she was trying to manipulate him. But that's silly, she doesn't have the smarts to do that, Ravenclaw or no.

"...social circles within this school have completely metamorphosed into something...unrecognizable." Yes, it's quite thrilling, "The world I grew up in is...It's not the same." Yes, he should hope so, "I will always hold resentment towards that...that witch." She can't even bring herself to say her name, "She...Ian was the sacrifice for outsiders to finally desist in their inquisition of Slytherin house. Why is she getting all the credit?" Her voice is on the edge of breaking. Any other time, Tom might be interested in pushing her further, but seeing as she's a part of his retinue now, he'd be in charge of taking care of her emotionally.

Ah, the responsibilities of being a leader.

"She was protecting me." How pleasing those words are to his ears, "Surely you can understand the need to protect someone, Druella?"

Her drowsy looking face breaks eye contact.

"You're absolutely valid in your want for justice for Ian," except she's not, "but he made his choice...And now he's lying in the bed he's made." Hm, maybe Evan's right about him mixing up his metaphors.

Druella suppresses whatever snap reply she wants to give back by clenching her fists. She sighs, "I stand behind her because the head of Rosier House does...As do my parents." Her fingers crack, one by one, "...You two are promised, right?"

Not at all, but he lets her continue without confirming nor denying.

"I stand behind you both. My...my family honor is more important than what I want." At this point her fists are clenched so tight, Tom thinks her nails might break flesh, "I've...I've accepted that now."

That's good. The sooner she realizes being under his thumb is better than being under anyone else's the better. Baby steps.