Tom

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"After a very tedious inspection, all I can confirm is how this book shows absolutely no trace of malicious spells, curses, charms, or really any magical qualities at all. As far as I can tell, it's just a silly notebook!"



Professor McGonagall frowned, "How is that possible, Severus? The boys claimed-"




"Well, Minerva, they claimed wrong, which isn't much of a surprise. This tale they have fabricated is just absurd! How does one believe a diary belonging to the infamous 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' just so happens to fall into young Draco Malfoy's hands within the walls of Hogwarts?," Professor Snape leaned back in his leather clad desk chair with an exaggerated sigh.



The woman seated in front of Snape's massive desk frowned to herself, "I believe Gregory and Vincent. Do you really wish to assume the boys would lie to us? Especially when their friend could be in terrible danger?"



"I admit it doesn't seem to make much sense. From my experiences with Crabbe, Goyle, and even Malfoy, the three are nearly as inseparable as your 'Golden Trio'."



McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "My 'Golden Trio'?"



"You know, Potter and those other two," The dark haired man waved a hand in the air dismissively and leaned forward towards his desk again, his attention back on the small black notebook which rest at the center of a cleared nest of papers and books strewn across the professor's desktop.BR>


"Are you saying you have a 'slang' term for three of my students, Severus?"



Professor Snape glanced up at the woman, "Let us get back to the matter at hand, Minerva. The book?"



Professor McGonagall sat a little straighter in her seat, perched at the very edge as if wanting nothing more than to rise from the chair and leave the miserable Potions classroom and Professor Snape to his brooding, arrogant self.



"It is indeed an odd story the boy's have told us and a seriously grave accusation, the two pointing fingers at 'You-Know-Who' for being at fault in Draco Malfoy's disappearance," Snape continued on as he shuffled through the blank pages of the notebook, "A seriously grave accusation, indeed."



The blanket of worry fell on Professor McGonagall's lined face again, something that has been happening a lot this evening, "I understand the weight of the boy's accusation is profound. The last thing anyone wants to hear is that foul wizard's name again, to have him return from wherever dark place he was sent. But I must say, the two young men seem extremely troubled by their friend's disappearance and the mysterious circumstances surrounding it. For them to be lying, well, it's hard for me to believe that they would go so far to stretch the truth after what happened. We surely can not mistaken the scene presented to us at your Slytherin common room for a mere accident, some inane quarrel among students gone very wrong! I have never in my days here at Hogwarts seen a spell taught in this building that could create such carnage. The immense power was nothing our students and most, if not all, of our staff could or even would warrant displaying under Hogwart's roof!" The professor paused, straightening out her robes in a nervous manner, "I fear something else may be at work here, perhaps there is some truth to the boy's accusations."



Professor Snape was staring down at the book during Professor McGonagall's speech. A shadow now cast over his pale face.



"No," Snape slapped the book closed, staring directly at the woman seated in front of him for the first time during their conversation, "I don't believe there is anything else at work here other than some children's foolish mischief. Whatever curses were thrown in that room were that of students and not an evil, outside force." The glare Severus Snape shot his fellow professor shown he spoke in finality, putting a severing end to the matter at hand, "As we all know, 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' has not returned. There is no reason to cause panic by spouting such rumors. I suggest we work towards reversing the effects of the spell cast at Draco Malfoy. Hogwart's teachers should be concentrating efforts to try and get Draco back from wherever the boy was so carelessly sent."



"If Draco is still alive," Minerva whispered, averting her eyes.



"It's not a matter of if, Professor, it's a matter of where and how. Do you believe a killing curse was cast this evening?"



Professor McGonagall rose from her chair with indignation, having just about enough of Snape's harsh tone, "Severus! Of course I don't believe such a thing! The boys would never seriously harm each other! After all, they're just children!"



"My point exactly," Snape pushed his chair back as if to rise, "If you need me, Minerva, I will be speaking with young Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle about this matter."



"But it's only four in the morning!" Professor McGonagall placed her hands on her hips, "I realize this matter is of great importance to you, to all of us, but regardless if the boys are at fault, they have had quite a shock. Let them rest before you began drilling them for information."



Professor Snape cast her a look again before settling back into his chair, "Fine. But only one hour, then I will be waking them personally."




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The dream came abruptly, falling on the boy the moment he closed his eyes:



"What kinda wine was that anyway?," Draco Malfoy slurred as he spoke, wrapped tightly in an aged blanket with the large Slytherin crest across the length of it.



A tall, dark haired boy, Tom Riddle, was helping Draco into a large bed, "Just something I had lying around. You seemed to like it?"



"Sure, is' ok I guess," Draco curled up at the center of the king size mattress, resembling a green inch worm in his snug wrappings of blanket, blond tousled hair peeking out the top. Tom stood, staring down at the drunken boy with the hint of a grin dancing across his thin lips. He stood beside the bed much too long, just watching the younger boy before moving to take off his own shirt and tie.



" 'Think you should try killin' me less, Tom, tha's what I think..." Draco paused, murmuring something to himself, "And gimme more wine. I like wine."



Tom Riddle chuckled while pulling off his shoes, "Is that so, Draco? What a funny notion..."



"I dun' think so, makes pref'ctly good sense to me," Mumbled the 'Slytherin' caterpillar from his cocoon.



"Well," Tom sighed, slipping from his pants and pushing the covers on his side of the bed back to crawl in beside Draco, "You know, if you didn't refuse me so often, Draco, I wouldn't have to use such drastic measures, now would I?"



The blond boy lay still as Tom made himself comfortable just inches away. Both boys lay in silence for a moment, the flickering light of the dying torches on the walls creating numerous dancing shadows across the bed. On the other end of the room, the fire place had nearly snuffed out completely with only a few faint embers glowing amidst the charred gray logs.



"Wadd'ya mean by that? Refused?" Draco asked.



Tom lay on his side, his head propped up on one arm to watch the boy beside him, "Exactly what I said."



Draco suddenly wriggled his head out from the top of the blanket, pushing it down to his waist. He was frowning with the appearance of being profoundly offended, "I di'n't refuse anybody!"



"Oh?" Tom raised an eyebrow, smiling at Draco's pouting face, "Well, I guess not always. There was that one time in the washroom. Oh, and that lovely little dream we were having, do you remember?"



Draco lay on his back, squinting up at the canopy over head, "A dream?"



"You know the one," Tom's eyes darted down Draco's pale chest, his smirk softening, "You were in Potions class with that strange black haired teacher."



"Prof'ser Snape?" Draco added thoughtfully.



"Yeah, that's him."



"I remember!" Draco beamed, "I made this amazing potion, and-"



"Yes, you did," Tom brought a hand to Draco's bare chest, slowly gliding his fingertips across the boy's warm flesh. Draco didn't seem to notice.



"You were there too," Draco glanced over at Tom, "Did you help me make that potion?"



Tom shook his head, "That was all you, Drac."



"Thought so," The blond grinned, staring back up at the canopy.



"You recall what happened after that?"



Draco frowned, "Goyle and Crabbe were ignoring me."



"They were, and very rudely too. But not me, I wasn't ignoring you."



"Nah," Draco brightened a little, "You kissed me, pro'ly cause my potion was the best. You'd know that cause you're, like, a Potion's Master, right?"



"Something like that," Tom's hand slithered beneath the blanket, resting ominously on Draco's hip, "But, I do believe it was you who actually kissed me."



Draco's face was blank, "I did? Huh... guess I did." He paused, thinking things over in his sluggish mind, "Wasn't so bad..."



"Hmm?" Tom's eyes moved from the blond's pale skin up to his face again.



Draco glanced over, his glassy, pink rimmed eyes meeting the boy's dark stare, "Kissing you, it wasn't so bad, y-know?"



"Wasn't so bad?" Tom frowned, nearly pouting for Draco's sake, "Well I'm much better than 'Not So Bad', so I've been told in the past. Do you disagree?"



Draco shrugged, "Dunno, I dun remember much now."



"Maybe you should try kissing me again then, Draco. Prove me wrong." Tom grinned at the boy, daring him.



Draco just stared back, blinking. He seemed to be thinking it over.



After a lengthy silence, Tom shrugged, "Ok, well you're obviously scared to go against me. I'm a better kisser than you, after all."



Draco crinkled his nose, "No y'er not! I'm the best in Slytherin! All the girls say so!"



"All the girls say that? What do girls know..."



"They say I'm the best, tha's what! I'm pro'lly the best at Hogwarts!" Draco glared back, daring the other boy to doubt him. Tom was finding all of Draco Malfoy's trigger buttons with ease.



"Is that so, Mister Malfoy? I hate to burst your bubble, but I'm certain it is I who is the best kisser at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Have been for decades! But if you want to go on believing what silly girls tell you..." Tom smirked at Draco, "Go ahead. It's not like I'll believe you without seeing the proof myself. But you're too scared..."



"Hah! I'll show you!," Draco Malfoy jeered.



The eager blond boy rolled over on top of his bed mate faster than the dark haired boy could react. The weight of Draco's body held Tom Riddle firmly to the mattress, pinning him there while they locked lips. Draco's tongue shot between the boy's lips before Tom could comprehend what was happening. When he snapped back to, Tom wrapped his arms around Draco, welcoming the embrace and the wet kiss. It was sloppy at first, almost painful from Draco's attack on the surprised Tom. But within moments hands were tangled in hair, mouths moving together in unison, nibbling, sucking, kissing, and Tom's free hand was ever so slowly gliding down Draco's bare back, disappearing beyond the covers. The blond let out a yelp from on top of Tom, pulling away for a moment. But Riddle wasn't having any of that and, with his other hand grasping Draco's mess of white blond hair, pushed the boy back down to meet his lips as his preoccupied hand grasped the boy's ass under the blanket once more. This time Draco had no place to go, merely whimpering through their wet lips and kissing Tom even fiercer than before, his sudden surge of lust a misplaced reaction from Tom's groping and stubborn reluctance to let the boy go.



When they finally separated, Draco lay back in his spot across the bed, fore arm draped over his eyes as he panted, blanket barely covering his nude body now as it sat low on his hips.



Tom had recovered his breathing much faster and lay back on his side, staring intently at the blond. He grinned to himself while watching Draco, knowing very well that he was getting the exact reactions he wanted from the boy, and without much effort.



"I suppose that was alright."



"Alright!?" Draco snorted, "I'm a 'Malfoy'! We don't do just 'Alright'! That was bloody 'Amazing'! an' you know it!"



"If you say so," Tom snickered, moving across the blankets towards Draco's body. He lay over the boy, Draco moving his arm from his eyes to stare up at Tom. But the smaller blond boy didn't push him away. The only expression on the Draco's features now was curious anticipation.Tom grinned, leaning down to Draco's neck and dragging his lips across the pale skin.



Tom whispered low, sending shivers across Draco's warm skin, "Maybe... after another go, I'll call it 'Amazing'."



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Gregory Goyle awoke slowly, confused by the sounds in the room around him.



"Goyle! Wake up! Oh bloody Merlin, please wake up!"



Goyle was vaguely aware of someone shaking his shoulders, shaking him awake. But he didn't want to get up. He was so tired...



"What in bloody hell have you done!?" Crabbe's voice shook with terror. Goyle's inner self was alarmed by the concern in his friend's voice, alarmed enough that he managed to flutter his eyes open.



"Goyle! You're awake! Can you hear me? What the fuck did you think you were doing!?"



"Huhhn..." Goyle managed to murmur into the surface of the desk, slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes. He was so tired. All he wanted was to continue sleep.



"Sit up! C'mon! We gotta wrap your wrists fast! What the fuck where you thinking!?!"



With Crabbe's help, Goyle reluctantly sat up against the back of the chair, still slouching low against the wood and leather cushioned seat. He sat there lurking in his own thoughts, still hazy for a moment before everything started to make sense. He saw the desk in front of him. The diary, Tom Riddle's forsaken little black book sat open on the desk top, but it was hard to see through all the....



"Crabbe?" The boy croaked, glancing around confused, "What- why's there all that... are you ok?..." The room dimmed when he moved to turn his head.



"Oh no you don't!" Crabbe grasped the larger boy's face and slapped his numb cheek, "Don't go out on me again! Just... keep talking! Tell me what in bloody Merlin's beard happened! I'm gonna wrap up your wrists to stop the bleeding before you knock yourself out for good."



"I dunno... what happened?," Goyle's head bobbed forward, "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"



"I'm bloody fine! You, on the other hand... Why Goyle?!," Crabbe muttered while wrapping lengths of fabric around Goyle's wrists, "Why'd you do this to yourself!?"



The disoriented boy stared down at his own wrists. For the first time he noticed the pain, the blood soaking his arms and hands, the large cuts across his own skin. Then he started remembering.



"The diary... I was tryin to...."



"You tried to fucking kill yourself! Why the hell would you cut yourself so damn deep!? I woke up and found you sitting here bleeding to fucking death! I've been trying to wake you up for like five minutes! You had me scared half out of my mind!"



"I- I'm sorry...," Goyle sat up a little straighter, his head still swimming somewhere in the rafters, "...just had to keep trying..."



"Well you nearly 'tried' yourself to death," Crabbe had finished wrapping his friend's wrists, "C'mon, you think you're ok to move? We gotta get you cleaned up and then I can start trying more healing spells on you. Was a little too fucked up in the head to get them to work when I found you here. Let's just go to the damn washroom for now."



Goyle nodded, letting Crabbe wench him up to his feet. His legs felt like anchors weighing him down as the two boys tried to walk across the room.



"You- unf -certainly aren't making this easy for me," Crabbe whispered beneath Goyle's massive arm.



With that, Goyle tried a little harder to support himself. They left the dormitory and made it silently across the dark common room, the other student's still asleep in their dorms. Minutes later they were in the brightly lit washroom, the door locked securily behind them. Crabbe had deposited Goyle on a bench near the sinks and went to start running hot water in a sink.



"For fuck's sake, man, the damn diary wasn't responding to any of our blood after it said 'Liar'," Crabbe fiddled with the faucet, waiting for the water to warm, "What in your damn messed up head made you think cutting yourself like that and bleeding on the damn book would have any effect?"



Goyle sat hunched over on the wooden bench and leaned over his knees, staring down at his blood soaked hands.



He glanced up at his friend, "I'm sorry for scaring you."



"You better be!" Crabbe snapped, grabbing a hand towel and soaking it in the sink, "Talk about sobering up fast, I think I already passed the hang over as well."



"I just thought if I kept at it," Goyle frowned, "Thought the more blood I put in the thing the better chance I had at getting a response."



Crabbe just shook his head as he knelt down beside Goyle and started wiping the blood from him, "Coulda been way worse, you know, If I hadn't woke up when I did. Fuck..."



Goyle stared down at the floor, "I'm so sorry Vince."



"Don't call me Vince," Crabbe spat, "You sound like Draco scolding me when you do that. And I didn't do anything wrong. So, just, don't, ok?"



"Ok."



They sat in silence as Crabbe cleaned off most all of the drying blood. He had a spellbook with him, all healing remedies. Goyle watched as his friend flipped through the pages and found whatever spell he was looking for. After a good ten minutes both of Goyle's arms were miraculiously healed and Crabbe was beaming with pride.



"I'm getting good at that stuff," Crabbe grinned to himself.



Goyle's head suddenly shot up, staring off past Crabbe.



"I think it worked." he whispered.



"Well yeah, healed em perfect," Crabbe laughed.



"No," Goyle shot to his feet. But he paused as his legs turned to jelly again.



"Don't try standing like that! You'll knock yourself out. Sit back down!" Crabbe grasped his friend's arm and helped him back to the bench.



"Sorry," Goyle shook the stars from his vision, "Still dizzy." He stared in his friend's eyes, startling the smaller boy, "No, I meant the blood. I think it worked. I... I saw where Draco is."



Crabbe's mouth gaped open, "You what? How?"



Goyle squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to remember, "A dream. I had a dream about him, about them."



A loud knock sounded on the door, startling both boys.



"Occupied! Go away!" Crabbe yelled back at the door, scowling at it.



There was a silent pause from behind the door then the lock disengaged, the door gently swung open.



Professor Snape stood beyond the room, a stern look on his grim features as he lowered his wand. His eyes swam over the scene, the two boys surrounded by a Healing book, red stained bandages, and a bloodied towel. The man raised an eyebrow.



"I want a word with you both. In my quarters. Now."


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