Serpentine [T.M. Riddle]

Spring&Summer

The reminder of the bracelet burning a hole in his robe pocket is enough to make him shake his head vigorously in order to banish the idea. The candies were enough. They did what they were supposed to, and they did not attract attention (useful as this crush facade is, it is annoying to high heaven, and he's not sure what he would have done if there was a large audience privy to the gift exchange.) Ximena enjoyed them and they shared food for a second time, though he's not sure what, if anything, was established between the two of them (are there rules for how much food is needed? Is it only foods that are handmade by the persons sharing? Does it count less because they were sweets and not a full meal?).

As for the remaining money, he's not sure when he'll be able to swing by Diagon Alley to open an account at Gringotts, much less if what he has is enough. The thought of squeezing money out of people pitying him for his situation at home is repulsive. He has pride. He does not need financial help. He has his own small collection back at Wool's (a bundle of bills and coins stuffed under his thin mattress), of which can be converted to proper wizard money. Eventually.

"Alright there Riddle?" Ian Rosier's ugly face is just what he needs to see. Moreso with his cousin and company in tow.

The Rosiers, from what Tom has gathered in his time here, are somewhere between respectable and social-climbers. Opinions change every century. Their family branches out to nearly all corners of Western Europe (in part thanks to a horrifying tradition of arranging their children in marriages at a young age), and their reputation ranges with every kilometer. His interactions with the second-year siblings hasn't left much of an impression beyond 'mildly useful' (Ian) and 'annoying' (Druella) with him, but he's yet to speak to the one in his own year.

"Salazar, that last practical was a nightmare, I'd much rather have faced off with a bogart." Their company is Cygnus and Lucretia. Perfect.

"Don't give me that, Cygnus, you'd run in the opposite direction the moment it took the form of auntie Vinda."

The Blacks are a curious bunch. People hush when a member is speaking, and people chatter about them when they leave the room. The ones he has met walk about as if they own the earth beneath their feet, and quite frankly, most would agree that they have the right to. It's a sort of authority he craves, but it's also the sort of ego he despises and can't stand to be around. Cygnus is the worst of it, and so far, Lucretia is the most tolerable, if not easy to sway.

"Oi, your bogart is aunt Vinda too?" Druella jests, setting her books down.

"Only when it's not cousin Augusta." Lucretia teases further, eyes down at her reading material.

"Augh!" Ian shivers, and Tom wants to roll his eyes because he is definitely overreacting, "Wretched gir! Heart of a lion and soul of a banshee!"

"What do you expect from a Gryffindor, Ian? It's why we have the houses, it's to keep the dignified people away from those...well, less dignified. No offence to dear Augusta."

Tom gleams. He watches Lucretia calculate.

An opportunity. She strikes.

"If you ask me, this sort of rivalry is childish." Lucretia says in a manner that is both nonchalant and prim. Druella blinks at her. Ian appears to be confused. Cygnus, as usual, looks as if he wants to justify himself.

"What the founders themselves wanted is childish?" Druella sounds like she wants to be accusatory, but really it is more like she's unsure of what she's saying.

Lucretia lifts her chin up from her book, and Tom is reminded of what family she hails from, "I know you're a Ravenclaw, Ella, but do try to not let your pomposity weigh down how you think--You know you're only allowed to sit here with us because of your family and brother."