My heart began to pound, my cutlery fell out of my hands and onto the table with a clatter.

"He can't do this." I stood suddenly, the familiar stream of panic beginning to blur my thoughts into one very clear idea.

Stop him.

"You aren't seriously going to go after him, are you?" The Hufflepuff boy demanded from the opposite side of the table.

"Of course I am." I snapped. "I can't just let him kill someone, can I?"

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my skin.

"Well, I'll be damned." The Hufflepuff kid remarked. "You are by far the strangest Slytherin I have ever come across." He was staring at me with a fearful, almost admiring look. There were murmurs of displease at the table.

"I think you're odd," Said a Ravenclaw girl I had never met before. "What type of Slytherin voluntarily defies Tom Riddle?"

"Me." I snapped. "What's it to any of you, anyway? Are you guys his friends or something?"

Everyone fell silent.

"Well? What's wrong? Have you all suddenly lost your nerve?"

The Ravenclaw girl looked mutinous but kept her eyes downcast. The Hufflepuff kid was staring at me in open admiration, and it was that which made my temper flare. I wasn't Tom, I didn't desire any praise for being an explosive personality.

Lately I had been blaming myself for having such high strung emotions. I felt trapped in a perpetual state of fear and it didn't help that these problems arose so suddenly, it was messing with my mental health, and Professor Pickerell clearly had no idea that she had kicked the hornets nest by insulting Tom to his face. I was almost certain Tom was going to kill her for it, if not almost completely convinced of it.

I had no idea what he was intending to do exactly, but I didn't want to wait and find out. I had lost too many friends. Professor Pickerell wasn't what I would consider a friend, but I sure as hell wasn't about to let Tom kill her just because he felt insulted.

I left the table at once, walking briskly out of the Great Hall. As soon as I was out of everyone's sight I broke into a run. I could hear voices up ahead. I slowed down once I got nearer, coming to a halt at the end of the Hall.

If they were trying to keep their voices down they were doing a rather poor job, every word was all too easy to pick up on. I chanced a peek around the corner. Tom had his back to me, appearing to be in a lighthearted conversation.

Professor Pickerell was standing a little to his right, staring up at him and laughing like a college schoolgirl with her crush. I watched this all unfold, becoming rather puzzled particularly when she handed him a book which he then discreetly tucked into his cloak.

So he had left the Great Hall in a towering mood just to get a bloody book?

"Thank you, Professor." Tom said. I couldn't see his face but I could picture the charming smile, the dark eyes gleaming bright. It was all a show. He was acting, and as soon as he saw me I knew the mask would be long gone and the cold, monstrous psychopath would return. It was only a matter of time. I took a step backward, planning my next move when I heard Professor Pickerell speak.

"You seem to hang around a lot of pretty women." She said on what was probably intended to be a lighthearted laugh. "I guess I can't blame you. You have the looks, you could get anyone you wanted."

I slammed my hands to my face, repressing a cry of horror.

What the fuck?

I paused, lowering my head and listening to what was fast becoming the strangest conversation I had ever eavesdropped on.

"I have a few admirers." Tom said in a coy tone. "A lot of whom are valued acquaintances."

Acquaintances.

"I see." Professor Pickerell giggled this hideously high pitched, girly laugh and I was suddenly overcome with a post war montage of Dolores Umbridge.

What the hell was wrong with this woman? And what the hell was Tom doing? Why did Professor Pickerell insult him in the Great Hall only to be drooling over him here?

Questions raced through my mind, none of which I had any answers for. This situation was the definition of messy.

"Who is that pretty girl who you were with out in the snow? The one with the bushy hair?" Professor Pickerell asked. There was no hint of that girlish voice she had used earlier, the question was well aimed and wanting nothing less than a surefire answer.

Reflexively, not even aware I was doing it, I twined my hand around a lock of my own hair, tugging it in unease.

Tom was silent.

"Hermione, I think her name is." Professor Pickerell pressed remorselessly. I couldn't see her but I could hear her tone grow cold. "She seems quite the delight."

It wasn't a question, but I could hear the enquiry in her words. She wanted Tom to kick my name in the dirt to ease her own insecurity. I barely even knew this woman, and somehow I was a threat to her and whatever she thought was happening between her and Tom.

Tom didn't speak. It was as if he was trying to find the right words to say and was coming up short. I chanced a peek around the corner and saw him standing there, tall and dark like a shadow and appearing as though caught up in a silent deliberation.

"I've rendered you speechless." There was no mistaking the ill disguised bitterness in Professor Pickerell's voice. "And over a rather simple question, too. You're in love, aren't you?"

There was another pause. For some reason, my heart was pounding, even my hands were shaking slightly and I could barely think clearly at all.

I waited, and then...

"Do not speak of Hermione." Tom said suddenly, his voice was very clear. "Do not even dare to say her name."

My hands slipped on my beaded bag, suddenly sweating. I wiped my brow.

What the hell was this, a panic attack?

"If you love her, I need to know." Professor Pickerell was saying. "Because otherwise everything between us-"

"You might have taught me once in advanced Defensive Theory lessons now and then," Tom cut across her harshly, "But that does not mean that there is is anything between us. I figured you would be aware of that by now."

Advanced defensive theory? Was that even a real subject? Professor Pickerell was the stand in for History of Magic, wasn't she? Or did she teach two subjects?

I mentally shook myself.

Really? I thought. Out of all the shit that they're saying, THAT'S what you're confused about?

I adjusted my position against the wall, my back fast becoming sore due to my awkward posture. I thought I was going to be dueling Tom to the death and saving the life of a teacher I barely knew, not leaning against some wall listening to him deflect hinted questions about his love for me.

"I know you love me." Professor Pickerell was saying in a rather desperate voice. "You act so cold, and so void of emotion, but I can tell you do."

"I don't." Tom said. His voice was ice. I had heard him speak to me so many times I knew from the tone he was using that he was telling the truth.

"I'm not going to stand here and reciprocate your feelings towards me, so if that's what you want, do yourself a favour and leave."

I opened my beaded bag, pulling out my water bottle. This was getting intense, the newfound information on Professor Pickerell was making me extremely uneasy. I took a swig, and almost choked.

"I love you." Professor Pickerell said. Her voice sounded small in the large hall. "And I know by how you are with that Hermione girl that you love her."

"Did I not just tell you," Tom said dangerously, "To not speak of her?"

"You love her. Listen to yourself, you're defensive when I speak of her!"

"I don't love her." Tom snapped. "Hermione Granger is highly overrated. She is nothing special, just a plain looking, mediocre girl at best. Her mind could be of some use to me, other than that she is useless. And as for you... I don't love you. The truth is, I can't love. I do not love anyone."

My insides felt cold all of a sudden. All of me felt cold, like I had just fallen off a great height and into the depths of the ocean.

Hermione Granger is highly overrated. She is nothing special, just a plain looking, mediocre girl at best. Her mind could be of some use to me, other than that she is useless.

I stumbled backwards, my eyes burning, and took of running back down the hall. My breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps, I ran up two different flights of moving staircases and found myself gasping like some sort of winded animal on the staircase leading up to the Astronomy tower. I was crying.

Why? Why the hell was I crying?

I stood, leaning against the castle wall. I put my head in my hands and cried my heart out. I guess I did love the fucking monster after all. If I didn't, why would his words hurt me?

And why did I love him, anyway? I felt disgusting. He had assaulted me for fuck sake. He had defiled me, and I had forgiven him somehow. I guess I had made allowances for him because he was a monster, and I knew that he wasn't aware of it. He couldn't love. He could only destroy.

"Hermione."

I jumped. Tom Riddle was mere steps down from me, all tall and dark like a damned demon from the pits of fiery Hell, standing there staring at me with a look of concern.

"Get the FUCK away from me!" I yelled, leaping to my feet at once.

"I heard everything you fucking said. And yeah, that's right. I was listening."

"You don't understand." Tom began but I cut him off. "I was-"

"You know what? I don't want to hear anything else. I don't need to. I can't even stand to look at you. Just stay away from me."

I took off up the staircase but Tom caught up to me. I spun, my wand making contact with his chest, in the very place where his heart was. He didn't bother to defend himself. He came to a sudden standstill, raising his arms as if in a gesture of defeat.

"I could fucking kill you." I said, my voice shaking in suppressed rage. I stepped closer to him, staring him dead in the eyes. "You're a liar. And I hate you."

"I don't doubt that." Tom smiled.

"What the fuck are you smiling for?" I demanded. "This isn't a fucking joke."

"It isn't what you think. I found it amusing that you ran after me when I left the Great Hall. Yet the most hilarious thing is you misunderstanding the entire situation that just happened between me and Professor Pickerell."

"Yes, it's all just hilarious." I said venomously. "What, when she said there was something between you two, or the part where you insulted everything about me?" I snapped.

"I didn't mean anything I said. And there is nothing between the two of us."

"Bullshit." I accused. But Tom's expression was dead serious.

"I had to say those things. Don't you understand? I can't be with you Hermione - not if I can't control how everyone sees us. If anyone knew my real feelings toward you... your life would be at stake." I watched him talk. He looked like he was struggling with his emotions.

"I have too many enemies. If someone hurt you, to exact vengeance against me..." He dragged a hand through his hand, looking genuinely upset. "I can't afford to risk that. To risk you. For once, I have found something good. Better than anything I've ever had before. Professor Pickerell might love me, but I don't care about that. She's a teacher for fuck sake, and an irritating one at that. I had to tell her that I hated you, just so she wouldn't think of you being the barrier preventing her from me."

"There are other ways to get that message across." I said coldly. "You have a very strange way of interpersonal communication."

"I don't know what love is." Tom said simply. He looked sincere and vulnerable, standing there on the staircase exposing a raw side of him I had never seen before.

"I might not know about love but I do know that when I look at you, I feel good things. Many good things. I didn't want to believe it at first. I have never known a feeling as good as this. And I... I have never experienced it to know how to deal with it. I want to protect you. I want to know everything about you. I want to be with you all the time. I know it doesn't make sense to you, it doesn't make any sense to me either. I'm not an emotional person. But around you, I can feel these things. You alone have the ability to turn me into a different man. No other woman I have known has been able to do this."

"A man?" I asked. "You turn into a fucking monster when you're around me."

"I hated myself for loving you, and in the past I hated for you for being so close to me. I always hurt everyone who attempts to get close to me. I thought you of all people would know that about me."

"What was the book Professor Pickerell gave you?" I demanded, steering the conversation away from anything to do with emotions. It was all making me feel queasy and sick, the pain of all of this shit was getting to me.

Tom withdrew the book from his cloak.

"It's a diary. I had left it behind in class."

He passed it to me and I flipped through it, looking for more evidence to use against him. However despite my effort to expose him it remained as it ever was, a mere book filled with information about Defensive theory.

I stared at Tom directly, a thought suddenly bursting to the front of my mind.

"How would I know you haven't used some kind of glamour on the pages and written something else? Like why do you have two chapters on the same thing?" I flipped through the chapters, confused.

"Nothing escapes your eye, does it?"

Tom smiled, appearing pleased and somewhat amused.

"You're right, Hermione. I have been writing something else in here. More specifically, about someone. I've been writing about you."