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Tom frowned at his copy of the Daily Prophet.
December 20, 1944.
It was January.
“Abraxas, let me borrow your copy of the paper.”
Abraxas, who normally couldn’t function without his second cup of imported Turkish coffee, wordlessly handed it over like a well-trained dog.
Tom frowned once more.
It should have been January.
“Is this a misprint?”
“Tom, you know I can’t read before my coffee.” Abraxas grumbled under his breath.
Tom looked down on his housemate with mild disdain. He wouldn’t last a day at Wool’s.
“Poor you.”
Even in his sleepy state, Abraxas didn’t miss that heavy hit of sarcasm. Sleepy grey eyes glared back at him.
“Fuck off, Riddle.”
“Maybe you’re spending too much time studying.” Thaddeus unhelpfully added. “Too much work makes your mind go mushy.”
Tom clenched his fist, barely resisting the urge to hex him in the middle of the Great Hall.
Perhaps he had spent more time in the Chamber studying the Horcrux ritual, but the extra hours had no effect on his daily life whatsoever. It was preposterous to even suggest that.
It was December all over again even though last night his housemates came back after a long Yule break. There was no way that they were going to leave right after lunch.
If any one noticed Tom going through the motions as he watched his roommates pack, no one spoke up. His trusted Knights knew better than to poke the sleeping dragon. He joined the rest of them onto the thestral-drawn (not that any of them noticed) carriages and escorted them onto the platform without speaking a single word.
Just before Abraxas walked onto the train, he turned around, exactly as he did the last time before he left to go back to the Malfoy Manor.
“Are you sure you want to stay here? My parents will not be an issue if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
His grey eyes were brimming with sincerity.
Abraxas was the type of child who had yet to be tarnished by the cruelty of the world, despite being at the edge of adulthood. It was the cute kind of naivete that was quickly snuffed out at Wool’s.
In no universe would Lady and Lord Malfoy ever let a mudblood like himself stay in their home, eat their food, and sleep in their beds. The letter that Lord Malfoy sent in the dead of night made the boundaries between their precious little Heir and Tom quite clear.
Still, Tom almost wanted to say yes.
“Unfortunately, I have things that I must research that require Hogwarts’ library. Maybe over summer we can visit Diagon together now that we don’t have to worry about the war.”
Abraxas squeezed Tom’s hand. “Promise?”
“Promise.” Tom lied.
There was no way that his parents would allow it. They barely tolerated him being roommates with a mudblood. They would have to go before they graduated. It wouldn’t do to have his right hand man be crippled by something so fickle as his parents’ weighty expectations.
Dragon pox should do the trick, he thought as the Hogwarts Express disappeared over the horizon.
The walk back from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts wasn’t difficult and gave Tom the perfect excuse to stroll through the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Ritual components weren’t cheap. The centaurs tend to keep their distance from rebellious students as long as he didn’t stray too far from the well-worn path or too close to the unicorn herds.
That being said, Tom wasn’t expecting to run into anyone, especially the new transfer student.
“Harry Evans.”
The new kid froze.
The raw meat in his hand fell flat onto the forest floor with a depressing thud. They both stared at each other as the oblivious thestral babies feasted away at the failed offering.
“Riddle.”
Bright green eyes glared back at him.
There was always something off about Evans that he could never quite put a finger on. The Gryffindor was one of the few people in the castle who didn’t fall for his charms, which wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if you ignored the fact that Evans was cordial with all of the Slytherins, save for him.