Harry Potter 1. September 1942

**For the longest time, I wasn't even sure myself that I was going to write this, but as you can see I couldn't resist the temptation. ;) As the summary says, this is a companion piece to the AEP trilogy, and it will contain missing scenes from that universe that I didn't get to include in the original fics for whatever reason. You can read that trilogy without reading this, but I'd advise reading that before reading this one! Just a suggestion. :P**

**It starts just before Danielle and Tom first meet, and will continue all the way up to the beginning of _Realm of Ashes._ I don't foresee this being particularly long, definitely not 45 chapters like the others, and all the oneshots are going to be fairly short, around a thousand words or so.**

**Also, spoilers abound for all three stories here, so please finish those fics before you begin this one! I hope you enjoy it. :D**

* * *

_**September 1942**_

Tom Riddle sat perfectly still, exuding an air of power even in the deserted compartment, face impassive and his fingers stroking the handle of his wand. He was already dressed in his Hogwarts uniform, his new Prefect badge glittering on his chest. The first meeting of the year was in ten minutes, and although he did not intend to be late, it would not start without him despite his status as a new Prefect.

Power was an indescribably useful advantage.

Sensing movement at the compartment door, his dark blue eyes flickered over to the pretty, brown-haired girl who had just bounded inside and perched on the seat across from him. "Hello, Tom," Olive Hornby purred, leaning forward and smiling widely at him. The scent of her perfume had quickly spread throughout the entire compartment, and Tom fought the urge to curse her, keeping his tone as polite as possible as he replied, "Good morning, Miss Hornby. Are you looking forward to your new duties as Prefect?"

Olive nodded enthusiastically. "Of course," she exclaimed, but her words were as artificial as her eyelashes. "But I am most excited about the person whom I'll be sharing the duties with. I've always wanted to get to know you better, Tommy."

Tom didn't even grace her with a response, aside from a slight curling of his lip at being referred to as "Tommy"; he hadn't been called that since he was three years old, and only by Mrs Cole. Cursing Olive Hornby would not be satisfying enough for him. Without another word, he stood up and left the compartment, leaving her staring open-mouthed after him.

* * *

He hadn't gotten halfway across the train when he was greeted by another, slightly less irritating Slytherin, the always good-natured Alphard Black. "Riddle, mate," Alphard said cheerfully, grinning easily at him. "I should have known you would become a Prefect."

"It did not come as a surprise, I assure you," Tom answered dryly, giving him an automatic, charming smile, before sweeping past him and continuing on down the hall, seized by a sudden surge of dizziness.

Alphard stared open-mouthed at his retreating figure for a moment before shrugging and slipping into his own compartment where Alyssa and Dylan MacDougal were diving into the candy they'd bought from the trolley. Dylan grinned easily at him and Alyssa's cheeks turned slightly pink when he entered, but neither of them seemed to have noticed his short interlude with Tom.

Not thirty seconds later, the door swung open again and Olive Hornby stuck her head in, a scowl on her face. "Why were you talking to Tom?" she demanded of Alphard.

He blinked in confusion. "Er, I was just saying hello…"

"Is that not allowed anymore?" Dylan chimed in.

Olive glared at him. "Shut up, MacDougal."

Alyssa stood up, her small form a surprisingly formidable sight and her hair crackling with magic, indignant at her twin being insulted. "Don't you have first-years to jinx?" she inquired, her tone dangerously calm.

The other girl narrowed her eyes and tossed her head back defiantly. "Well, at least _I'm_ a Prefect," Olive bragged, causing Alyssa and Dylan to stare dumbfounded at her before she flounced out of the compartment, the door slamming shut behind her.

* * *

She caught up with him at the end of the corridor, grabbing his hand and pulling him back, her nails digging into his skin. Tom could feel his façade beginning to crack, and he snapped something about rejoining her in the compartment later before he pulled his arm out of her grasp and walked through the nearest door, finding himself in a dusty storage room, where cardboard boxes were stacked up against three of the walls. An old, disused sink and mirror hung on the far wall, and Tom nonverbally cast _Lumos _before walking over to the mirror, noticing straight away that his eyes had briefly flashed red.

He splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to gain control again, his knuckles as white as the porcelain sink. He was furious at himself for letting his disgust of Olive Hornby ruin him like this. The knowledge that he would have to spend the next two years as her fellow Prefect repulsed him beyond belief. When he opened the Chamber of Secrets, Tom decided, she would be his first victim.

Without warning, he broke out into a fit of coughing, his hand coming away from his mouth red. Tom pushed down the first stirrings of fear, a shameful weakness, and stuck his fingers under the water, watching the blood swirl away down the drain. The past summer had been a particularly bad one for the curse, but if all went according to plan he would not have to deal with it for much longer.

Tom waited until his eyes were back to their normal blue and the dizziness had abated before leaving the room, as composed as ever and this time with a triumphant smirk on his face. In the end, he would be the one to come away victorious.

He hadn't told Olive there was a Prefect meeting.


	2. November 1942

**_November 1942_**

The second she walked into the Potions classroom, Danielle knew it wasn't going to be an ordinary lesson. Slughorn was bustling around the dungeon, his enormous stomach bobbing in front of him and his walrus mustache quivering with excitement. The desks were all pushed aside to make room for a large, bubbling cauldron, out of which was wafting a delicious scent. Danielle inhaled deeply and for a moment, she was back at home again, Mrs Bailey baking bread in the kitchen and her bent over a fresh piece of parchment and a new book—

"Merlin, that's amazing," Dylan breathed from beside her, and Danielle sadly opened her eyes as she was brought back to the present.

"Gather round, class!" Slughorn called as the Slytherins and Ravenclaws—Danielle eyed their blue robes with longing—filed into a circle, everyone commenting on the heavenly smell.

Danielle was standing between Alyssa and Dylan, wishing that her arm wasn't quite so close to his, as he kept blushing and avoiding her gaze. She felt a prickling on the back of her neck, and didn't need to check to know that Riddle was watching her. Fighting back her usual wave of disgust, and a curious jolt in the pit of her stomach that she interpreted as fear, she stared straight ahead, staring blindly at Slughorn through the haze.

"Now, can anyone tell me what potion this is?" Slughorn asked, but everyone knew who he was really addressing. There was only one person he would ask.

"It is Amortentia, sir," Riddle said smoothly, his voice closer to Danielle than she would have liked. "The most powerful love potion in existence."

_"Infatuation _potion, my dear boy!" Slughorn chuckled. "There is a vast difference—but I wouldn't expect you to know that at your age!"

_Or ever, _Danielle thought.

"—But five points to Slytherin all the same." Slughorn surveyed the row of rapt faces, looking pleased. "What do you smell, Tom?"

There was a curious expression on Riddle's face as he stared at the vat of Amortentia, his eyes blank. "Nothing, sir."

Danielle honestly wasn't surprised—the only thing he loved was probably himself—but Slughorn blinked several times, taken off guard, before he continued his lecture, squinting now and then sideways at Riddle as if expecting him to change his answer. "It has the ability to make the drinker utterly infatuated with its giver, and this altered state is therefore extremely dangerous. Amortentia is currently prohibited by every magical government in every country. We are going to attempt to brew it today—I have obtained the Headmaster's permission—and I daresay that none of you shall be able to do it completely perfectly, thus rendering the potion harmless—except for perhaps Mr Riddle. Whoever gets the closest will be awarded fifty points to their House and a potion of their choice from my private stores—barring this one, of course! You will find the instructions on page three hundred and ninety-four of your textbooks. You have one hour—good luck!"

The class scrambled to action at once, and while Slughorn reprimanded Olive Hornby for her effort to scoop up some Amortentia with her own cauldron, Danielle got to work. She was only half-heartedly slicing up beetles and stirring four times counterclockwise after each insect was added, knowing that she would never be able to get the potion exactly right. It kept hissing and bubbling at inopportune moments, but luckily she could see that Alyssa and Dylan weren't doing much better. Alyssa's potion had turned the exact shade of her hair and smelled strongly of cat sick, while Dylan's was shooting up at random into the faces of passerby, including Olive's, much to Danielle's delight. Across the room, Riddle was completely focused on his work, but Danielle thought she glimpsed a frustrated expression on his face. Trying not to appear too vindictive, she glanced back down at her concoction, where a single bone floated aimlessly on top of the liquid.

"Clara, why did you put a bone in your potion?" Alphard Black asked, peering over her shoulder. He frowned at her, his friendly face morphing into one of confusion.

"Er, I didn't," Danielle said truthfully. They looked at each other for a moment before both burst out laughing, Danielle feeling better than she had in a very long time.

* * *

After an hour had passed, Slughorn began to examine the potions, ending with Riddle as usual. Although the bone had mysteriously disappeared from Danielle's potion, it had turned a rather alarming shade of brown and was so thick that it was impossible to stir. Slughorn only glanced at hers, seeming horrified, before moving onto Dylan, where there was a brief but amusing interlude as the contents of his cauldron launched themselves at Slughorn, causing him to Vanish the entire concoction.

He reached Riddle last, a visibly eager expression on his face. But when Slughorn staggered back, choking, the entire class rushed over to see what had happened. Riddle's potion was black and completely still, showing no signs of frothing or fizzing. A terrible smell wafted from it, even worse than Alyssa's had been, so that Danielle had to cover her nose with her sleeve to keep from inhaling it. Riddle himself was glaring down at it, his pale hands clenched into fists and his expression furious. Slughorn looked shocked, and hurried away from Riddle's cauldron without a word. All in all, it resembled toxic sludge, and Danielle bit her lip so hard to keep from giggling that it started to bleed.

The House points and the prize potion ended up being awarded to a spotty Ravenclaw boy who looked stunned at besting Tom Riddle, and ran out of the dungeon before Slughorn could change his mind. The other students were whispering about Riddle's failure—and such a spectacular failure it had been—and Danielle found herself reliving the wonderful moment at dinner that night with Dylan and Alyssa.

"Did you see his _face?" _she snorted, shaking her head as she sipped a goblet of pumpkin juice. "He looked like he wanted to force-feed it to everyone. That wasn't a love potion, it was a hatred potion! Slughorn should have made _him_ drink it—"

"Good evening, Miss Ashford," a disturbingly familiar voice said from behind her. Danielle slowly turned around to see that Riddle himself was standing next to her.

"Hello, Riddle," she mumbled, sinking down in her seat, completely mortified. Alyssa and Dylan both looked sympathetic, and the three of them watched Riddle continue down the Slytherin table.

_What happened to him never eating at mealtimes? _Danielle thought grumpily as she put down her fork and goblet, her appetite disappearing along with him.

Under no circumstances was she going to Prefect duty that night.


	3. January 1943

**This conversation (in Danielle's point of view now) takes place at the end of Chapter 25 in _An Exquisite Pain_, after she visited Tom in the hospital wing.**

* * *

**_January 1943_**

Danielle watched the sun slowly sink over the horizon from the picture windows in the Prefects' common room, her legs curled up in the high-backed armchair she was sitting on and her chin resting on her knees. The light reflecting on the glistening snow hurt her eyes, but she stared blankly across the grounds as though mesmerized. Her mind, however, was in turmoil. She couldn't stop thinking about the way Riddle had looked in the hospital wing, a sickly grey sheen to his skin and his hand clenched tightly in a fist. She knew she oughtn't to be worried about him, and to be more worried about _herself_, but she couldn't shake the anxiety from her mind.

Someone cleared their throat quietly from behind her, and Danielle immediately whirled around, her hand flying to her wand when she saw that Riddle was standing by the door, his tall form silhouetted in the dying light. "Good evening, Miss Ashford," he announced, and walked toward her, his hands clasped behind his back and looking as much like a dark angel as ever. But Danielle forced such a silly comparison out of her mind and glared at him, not daring to remove her hand from her wand as he stopped in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her accusatory tone. "How did you escape from the hospital wing?"

Riddle arched his eyebrows. "I have ways," he said in that infuriating, arrogant tone that Danielle loathed so much. Before she could snap back a sarcastic retort, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the note she had left on his bedside table, now neatly folded. "I came here to ask you exactly _why _you wrote me this note."

Danielle wasn't sure what answer he was looking for. "It's an apology," she said slowly. Had he even read it?

"I am aware of that," Riddle replied, the muscles in his jaw working. "But have I not already told you that it is not your fault? Must I explain once again?"

Instead of answering, Danielle simply stared at him, deciding that the best course of action was not to do anything at all. She was suddenly aware that her hands had moved from her knees to the arms of the chair, and her nails were digging almost painfully into the fabric. She slowly loosened her grip, but didn't look away from Riddle, who appeared quietly exasperated at her lack of a response. "As your memory appears to be failing you, I will tell you that—"

"I know what you said," Danielle snapped, more harshly than she intended. "My question is, what is Dippet going to do to you now that he knows?"

Now it was Riddle's turn to pause, and his voice was emotionless as he answered, "He will presumably send me to St Mungo's. In his mind, I am a danger to students and will most likely harm one of them if I am not closely monitored."

Danielle had to fight the sudden urge to laugh; if only Dippet knew the whole truth. "And you're just going to sit back and let that happen?"

"I have no other choice."

"Liar," she half-teased, feeling her mouth quirk upwards in a brief grin. How could she be amused at a time like this? "You're going to find a way to stop that from happening."

Riddle blinked, and even she was almost taken in by his act. "I can do nothing, Miss Ashford."

Danielle was feeling impossibly playful, and she wondered what had gotten into her. "Like I just said, you're a liar, Tom Riddle." She was oddly confident, and she had no idea why. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he wouldn't dare attack her in a place like this, where one of the other Prefects could walk in at any moment.

Riddle looked stonily down at her, his expression betraying nothing. "I daresay you will have another Prefect soon. Perhaps Mr MacDougal will be appointed next."

She thought of Dylan's kiss earlier that day, the feel of his lips against hers, and her stomach twisted in something that was almost like revulsion. "Dylan is far too careless to be a Prefect," Danielle said softly, and prayed that it was true. She liked Dylan very much, but she had never wanted to be anything more than close friends with him.

"And you are not?" Was that a hint of a teasing tone in Riddle's voice? Startled, Danielle met his eyes again.

"No," she said in the gravest voice she could muster. It was then she realized just how close their faces were—how close their _bodies _were—and she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin; nothing at all like the ice-cold monster that she envisioned Voldemort as being.

_Voldemort. _No matter how charming Riddle was, no matter how handsome, she could never forget the fact that he was destined to be Voldemort, the most evil wizard who had ever existed. It was impossible for him to be anything _but _Voldemort. Fate had laid out his path for him long before Danielle was even born, and there was nothing she could do to change that. "I—I guess I'd better go," she said, abruptly standing up and stepping away from him. He took a step back as well, and Danielle ran her hand through her hair in an unsuccessful attempt to distract herself from the intensity of his gaze. "And…maybe you should go back to the hospital wing. You'll get into a lot of trouble if Madam Cutteridge finds you missing."

Riddle nodded, although the movement seemed mechanical, almost distracted. "Good night, Miss Ashford," he told her, and Danielle turned to leave, but something stopped her. She stared across the room at the fire crackling in the grate.

"One more thing," she added recklessly, pivoting around to face him.

Now Riddle was the one looking away from her, out the window. The sun had almost completely vanished, and the room was rapidly becoming bathed in darkness. The light of the dancing flames was reflected in his bright blue eyes, and Danielle forced herself to avert her gaze lest she stare at him like an idiot. "I might not be allowed to call you Tom, but you can call me Clara."

His eyes flickered up towards her again, and Danielle grimaced, feeling warmth rise up in her face that had nothing to do with the fire. Merlin, had she seriously just _said _that? The heat must be getting to her.

Riddle regarded her wordlessly, seeming almost as taken aback as she was. Before Danielle could say anything else incriminating, she turned on one heel and fled the room, blushing madly for the rest of the evening.


End file.
