Tom

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The library was, well, quiet like always.



I wasn't surprised to see a few of the more... 'withdrawn' students studying here on a Saturday afternoon. Right after we entered the library, Crabbe turned his attention towards a young Hufflepuff boy. The boy sat behind a massive book with equally massive reading glasses sliding down the end of his pudgy nose.



I quickly grabbed Crabbe by the shirt collar, "We're here on business. You can cause trouble later."



He sighed and followed me over to Goyle who was already staring up at the massive wall full of Prefect Student's plaques.



"There must be hundreds," He whistled, "The plaques down here are the most recent. We'll have to get a ladder to find Tom up along the wall somewhere."



If I squinted, I could make out the student's smiling faces from the early 1960's. I quickly sent Crabbe to fetch a ladder. While we waited, Goyle and I stood staring up at the many plaques and reading the names to ourselves.



After a moment he paused and turned to me, "Drac, can I ask you something?"



"If it's about last night, I'd rather not hear it," I sighed and turned away from him.



Crabbe and Goyle had asked me numerous times last night about the dream I was having. They continued to pester me at breakfast as well. I just about had it with their questions. I gathered from what they told me about last night that I was talking in my sleep. Crabbe and Goyle had shaken me, yelled at me, and Crabbe even slapped me once trying to wake me. I wasn't mad at him for it since I obviously hadn't felt the slap. He was only trying to help anyway. The only thing Crabbe and Goyle found that worked was splashing a large pitcher of cold water in my face. It was ice cold, literally still with the ice floating in the pitcher. That wasn't exactly a refreshing thing to wake up to.

"Well it is, in fact, about last night," Goyle continued, "I know the dream was about Tom."



I paused suddenly, "How's that?"



"Well, you were saying his name when Crabbe left the room to fetch a glass of water," Goyle was staring at me searchingly.



I gripped my sore wrist through my robes. Goyle took no notice. After waking last night I quickly realized how my wrist mysteriously still ached, as if from Tom's grasp. After Crabbe and Goyle went back to bed I found a red mark around my wrist in the shape of a hand gripped tight. I was unnerved and quick to hide it from my friends. Perhaps I was still embarrassed by the dream? Normally I would be the first to show them something remarkable like that.



"I was saying Tom's name?", I asked, avoiding his eyes.



"Don't play dumb, Drac," Goyle moved closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, "It's not that you were saying his name that worried me. It's how you were saying it. What exactly was that dream about?"

"Uhm, you know, the usual," I coughed pointedly.



"Wow," Goyle grinned and cocked his head to the side, "I really am starting to wonder about you."



I was about to defend myself as Crabbe approached, struggling under an extremely tall ladder. Crabbe still didn't know about the more intimate sides of my encounters with Tom. Best to keep him out of that neck of the woods.



I climbed up the old ladder with some reluctance as to how the old wooden thing would hold up. Carefully I made my way up to the tenth row of photos. There I found a row of Prefects from the mid 1940's all in a row grinning at me.



"Move the ladder to the right," I held on tight as Crabbe and Goyle wheeled the rickety thing sideways.



"Whoa! Stop there! I'm in the 50's now!" I ordered down to them.



My friends wheeled me back to the left a few feet. I stopped at Marsha Binks, 1944. A short, plump girl with horn-rimmed glasses two sizes too big for her round face. In the plaque beside Maurice was a boy named Matthew Waskey, 1944 also. He wore similar ridiculous glasses as Marsha had. And beside Theodore...

"I think I found him," I called down from the ladder, "But something's not right. You gotta see."



"Well, bring it down here then," Goyle and Crabbed stared up at me from the foot of the ladder.



As I had figured, the two larger boys wouldn't be brave enough to dare the rickety ladder. And by the looks of the plaque I doubted anyone would miss it. After a few shaky, creaking steps I made it down with the plaque in hand. I passed it to Goyle.



"What the hell..." He muttered, staring down at the image on the plaque with Crabbe peering over his shoulder.



"Why's it all black?" Crabbe asked, looking up at me.



The portrait showed what looked like an older boy standing proud for his Prefect photo. But his face and most of his upper body was hidden behind a large blackened circle, as if burnt. The name plate that adorn all the other Prefect plaques was torn off and missing from this one. Two screw holes remained where it had once been.



"Give me that!!" A woman's wrinkled, thin hand reached over my shoulder and stole the plaque from Goyle's hands.



The three of us jumped at the shrill whisper. Madam Pince, the high-strung Hogwarts librarian, glared at us from behind her small spectacles.



"You have no business taking the Prefect plaques down from that wall! Especially this one!" She hissed and quickly tucked the plaque under her arm, hidden from view.



"What's the deal with that plaque anyway?," Goyle asked the small, irritated old woman.



"I suggest you boys leave. Now.," Madam Pince sounded surprisingly vicious. She quickly shuffled away, muttering to herself, "Bloody thing shouldn't even be on the wall, I says. Don't know why they left it up there..."



The three of us dragged our feet from the library in a haze of confusion.



"What was that all about?" Crabbe mumbled.



"Dunno. She was acting like Tom's plaque was a terrible thing," I frowned, "Who would want to deface a Prefect plaque anyway? Why would they?"



"Someone didn't like him?" Crabbe shrugged, "He's made enemies out of us. Who knows what he did back then?"



"Yeah," Goyle said, "But it takes a lot of hate to do something like that. You saw how fast Pince was on our tails. Imagine trying to burn one of those plaques and rip off the name plate before she caught you. Makes me wonder if she did it herself, y'know? The way she was acting towards the thing..."



"Pince defacing something in her own library? That's pretty far-fetched," Crabbe snorted.



"Maybe she knew him back then? She's pretty damn old. Coulda been in class with him?" Goyle added thoughtfully.



Crabbe laughed, "So Tom turned her down for a date or something?"



Goyle shook his head, "That's a lot of hate for being rejected. I'd think Tom did something worse than that."



Crabbe turned his attention to me, "So what did we learn here?"



"Someone really hates Tom," I stared down at my feet as we walked.



Seeing the plaque had disturbed me. Something about it just felt very wrong, probably just the damage it had sustained.



"Pince fucked up Tom's plaque. I'd say she's the one who hates him," Crabbe added.



Goyle shoved Crabbe, "Shut up dimwit. We don't know that for a fact. Coulda been another student. Coulda been anyone."



"Doesn't sound like Tom was popular with the ladies back then, if you ask me," Crabbe snickered.



"He still isn't," Goyle leaned next to me and muttered just low enough for me to hear, "At least not with the ladies..."

"What was that?" Crabbe asked suspiciously.



I turned beet red in an instant. Perhaps telling Goyle about Tom kissing me wasn't a good idea after all. Who knew how he would react if I told him the other thing we did.



"None of your damn business, blockhead," Goyle shoved Crabbe again, nearly knocking him over.



Crabbe just laughed and went back at Goyle, shoving him into me. As we stumbled sideways, the diary fell from my robe pocket. Goyle spotted it first and leaned down to pick it up. I quickly snatched it from the floor and shoved it back in my pocket.



"You're still carrying that thing around?" Crabbe asked.



"Tom still write you love poetry, Drac?" Goyle laughed.



"I- No! No he doesn't! I just keep it around in case something pops up. A clue or something, like yesterday!" I stuttered.



I knew most of what I said was the truth. But perhaps I did have an unhealthy relationship with the small book now. I mean, it hasn't left my side since Tom first 'gave' it to me over a month ago.



"Sure, right," Goyle winked, "So what do we do now? Got the whole day left since the library was a dead end."



"We can always look in the yearbooks still. Snape has a lot behind his desk in those old book shelves," Crabbe suggested.



I quickly shook my head, "You two can go ask to borrow them. I'm gonna go back to the common room and write a letter home. I'll meet up with you at lunch."



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'Dear Father'



I tapped my quill anxiously on the desk. I wanted to write my father back even though he said not to. But I was at a loss for words. I had to be careful how I wrote the letter. My father was worried someone might be intercepting owls and screening the mail. I was too, having heard a few rumors about wizards being questioned after 'certain letters' fell into the wrong hands. But other than the need for secrecy, I was also just at a loss what to say to him. Who I really wanted to talk with was 'my friend', the Dark Lord. I crumpled up the last bit of parchment and tossed it in a waste bin. If I wanted to write him, then who says I couldn't? My father? As far as I was concerned, the Dark Lord was a higher power than even Lucius Malfoy.



'Dear Friend'



I started on a fresh piece of parchment. A firm tapping at the window beside my desk distracted me. Outside on the ice-covered ledge stood a massive black owl. By the looks of it I'd have to say it was a Great Horned Owl. But I'd never seen a black one before. It's sharp beak held a small letter. I moved to the window and unlatched it, staring face to face with the bird. The sheer size of the black owl was surprising. I very gently took the small letter from the bird, hoping not to loose a finger in the process. Instead of leaving, the mysterious owl stood staring at me from the ledge. I figured it wanted me to read the letter and reply.



I sat back at my desk and stared down at the blank letter. No 'To' or 'From' labeled, but a black wax seal with a unique snake design held the envelope closed. I studied it for a moment before opening the envelope and pulling out the small piece of parchment from inside. The handwriting, although attempting to be neat, was very shaky. I didn't recognize it.



'Draco,

Hello friend. I'm sorry I could not write you myself in the last letter your father sent. I was not feeling well enough then but am doing better now. Your family was kind enough to let me stay with them while I recover, although I find them a bit dull as company and wish you were here for a bit of chit-chat. I hope you are doing well in your studies. I enjoyed my time at Hogwarts when I was a lad. Hope all is well. Write soon when you can find the time.'



The letter had no signature but I knew who it was from. My heart danced in my chest with excitement. The Dark Lord just wrote me a letter! A strangely friendly and polite letter, at that! I laughed at the bit about my family being dull. It was true, my parents weren't the best company when you were pent up in that dark house with them for any length period of time, I should know. I could only imagine what it was like being there all winter. Thankfully, I had school.



I hurriedly moved to pick up my quill and knocked my ink over on the letter I had started. With a few choice curses, I rushed to save it and the small stack of parchment beneath. But I was too late, black ink scarred every page. I couldn't write the Dark Lord a letter on one of these! It would be insulting! I quickly searched my desk for anything to write on, but came up empty handed. I knew that was my last stack. Then I noticed the diary. It sat rather sad and harmless looking to my side, safe from the ink spill.



Without one more thought I took the small book and ripped out a page near the end. I dipped my quill in the little bit of ink that hadn't spilled from my ink well and started my letter.



'Dear Friend,

I'm very glad to hear you are doing well. And very proud that my family has lent you their assistance. I do sympathize with you about how dull the house and company can be. I spend most of my time in the library when I'm home. My father keeps some rare, unique books you might find of interest. As for school, I'm doing alright this year. I'm the highest marking student in my Potions class, which is my favorite. I look forward to Advanced Potions next school year. It's fairly dull here as well. Albus Dumbledore isn't the world's best Headmaster, if you ask me. You went to Hogwarts too? I didn't know that. What was your favorite class? Anyway, I hope you continue recovering. I should be home for Christmas Break within a month. I look forward to seeing you then.

Draco Malfoy'



I folded the letter and placed it in an equally blank envelope. The black owl perched on my windowsill appeared even more grand now that I knew who it belonged to. The Dark Lord's owl took the letter from me with care and, without so much as a hoot, flew away vanishing around the corner of the building.



I closed the window and took a seat back at my desk.



'Hello, friend.'



To my surprise, writing was appearing in the open diary. I leaned over to watch and see what it had to say this time.



'I'm doing very well, actually.'



"That letter wasn't for you, Tom," I laughed. Still, words continued to reply to the Dark Lord's letter along the diary's page.



'I find Hogwarts can be most interesting if you look in the right places. I, myself, have had plenty of time to find them all.'



"Over sixty years," I mumbled.



'I have been to your house before. It is terribly boring. That is, unless you're around to keep me company. Oh, and rare and unique books bore me to death. I've read them all.'



He was in my house? When was Tom in my house? And with me there! He must be lying. I ignored the first part of these new sentences.



"You use this diary, this book so much, Tom. You practically live in it! How can it bore you?"



'You're enjoying school this year, are you? I must be good company. Potions, as you already know, was my favorite class as well. I had a certain knack for it, along with all my other classes. I was the highest marking student in every single class. You could learn some interesting things from me. Some useful things.'



I simply laughed. Tom was blindingly arrogant. Oddly enough, it reminded me of myself, if only a little.



'Dumbledore? How could I forget that daft old man? He didn't like me. I was too smart for him to wrap his simple mind around. I was a threat.'



I raised an eyebrow. Tom threatened Albus Dumbledore? That was probably also a lie. Well, we both didn't like the old man. We had that in common. But I wondered why he didn't like Tom? Dumbledore was pretty nice to everyone he met, even me, though I loathed it at times. Perhaps quite a few people here, including Dumbledore and Madam Pince, didn't like Tom? Now I really did wonder who destroyed his Prefect Plaque.



'I don't want to wait until Christmas Break, Draco.'



I still didn't like to see Tom write my name. He put all too much care penning it across the paper.



Tom paused briefly before writing again.



'I look forward to seeing you... as soon as possible.'



It took me only a moment's hesitation to shove back away from the desk and stand. I eyed the dorm room around me looking for a shadowy figure. No one was there. I knew he would be here 'as soon as possible'. One thing I learned, Tom was a man of his word. My wand was across the room on Goyle's bed near the door where I had left it. Downstairs in the common room sat at least four Slytherins I saw earlier. I'd be safe once I had my wand. And even more safe with students around me. Tom only liked to show his face when I was alone.



Unfortunately, there was a good deal of distance between myself and my wand. The room was a rectangular shape as I stated before, long and slim. I was by the only window in the room at the far end. A good four yards away sat my bed. Then seven more yards or so was Goyle's. Crabbe's lay on the other side of the room near an ominously dark, partially open closet. The closet...



It was the only place of concealment in the room. The beds sat too low to the stone floors for anyone to be underneath. There were no human-sized hiding spots otherwise. Watching the closet suspiciously, I quickly picked up a letter opener from the desk. It was steel and a good four inches long with a pointed, although fairly dull, edge. I ignored the smiling cartoon owl on the handle. This would do as a weapon for now. But what I really needed was my wand.



My eyes on the closet, I slowly stepped towards Goyle's bed. Upon passing my bed, I realized with surprise nothing had happened yet. I dared to run the last few steps to Goyle's bed where I grasped my wand comfortingly in my hand, holding it at the ready ahead of me. Alright, I had my wand. Now all I had to do was leave the room and I'd be out in the common room safe and surrounded by people. But the door out was only feet away from the closet. I had to pass near it just to leave. I took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the exit. No sounds, no movements from the corner of my eye, nothing out of place showed itself in the room. I would rather Tom just revealed himself and attacked me already. This suspense is terrible!



I stood at the door with my hand on the brass knob. I paused in the open doorway, eying the closet behind me over my shoulder. I couldn't just leave it, let alone turn my back towards it. If worse came to worse I could always run down the stairs to safety. Holding my wand surprisingly steady I stepped back inside the dorm room. The closet was open only about a foot. This half of the room was darker than the area near the brightly lit window. The interior of the closet itself was pitch black. My hand paused just inches away from the closet door handle. I thought I heard a sound, a very very faint sound on the other side of the old oak door.



It could have been a rat digging around in the walls.



Or an echo from another room.



It could have been Tom.



I silently cursed myself for trying to be brave and foolish. I could be downstairs right now with other students. I could have came back and searched the room in company, safe from Tom's wraith, possibly even with Professor Snape at my side! But I had to suck it up and be a man. Alright Draco, let's get this over with then.



I quickly grasped the handle and swung the closet door open.



"Lumos!" I shouted as my wand lit in front of me.



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