𝕲𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖈[𝕬 𝕿𝖔𝖒 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞]

Here's my address. So, owl me maybe.

"I can manage. Don't want any beef with the Slytherin princess," Maybelle muttered under her breath and started to limp down the last set of stairs that lead to the exam halls.

She heard him grumble something about beef and foolish chipmunk language from behind her.

All the students had already entered the hall. Maybelle power-walked through the entrance trying to avoid the burning gaze of McGonagall. Tom followed behind and Maybelle could almost sense the proud smile on her professor's face.

Favouritism at its finest.

The students were handed the last paper and all of them started writing. Maybelle's mind was on something else. She could feel Tom's diary get heavier and heavier inside the folds of her robes. The only way to return it to him was to somehow drop it inside his bag.

Her quill glided across the parchment, answering whatever question she felt like answering. She knew that her grades would remain the same. The only hope was that McGonagall would realise that the extra classes with Riddle weren't of any help.

As soon as she would cut ties with the golden boy, it would be much easier for her to go after the possible Horcruxes. The contents in his diary didn't prove anything but those little hints and clues sure told that he was up to something.

Her quill dropped on the table and clattered away. Few inks drops splotched on her parchment but it didn't bother her much. She felt an urge to turn back.

Her eyes met Tom's cold ones as soon as her head turned slightly. The boy was not writing. His quill was also isolated in one corner of the table. Maybelle frowned and checked the time.

It was only half an hour since the exam, he possibly couldn't have finished by then. She fixed her gaze on him again to see him staring at her. His hands were firmly set on the table and he was hunched forward ever so slightly.

Something about the whole situation didn't make sense. But Maybelle didn't break her stare. His stare was not intense or calculating or angry. It was of confusion. He seemed lost.

She wanted to know why.

Are you okay, Riddle?

She projected her thought intensionally. She at least hoped to startle him. But he only blinked.

Maybelle tilted her head sideways, almost like a lost puppy. A habit she had when she wanted to understand something.

Is he under some spell?

Must be the Slytherin princess.

Did she give him some love potion?

I cannot imagine Tom as the lovesick puppy!

Maybelle bit the inside of her cheeks in order to stop her from laughing as she imagined Tom having heart eyes and Cupid wings, flying behind Olivia.

Tom was frowning. He must've heard her thoughts. She winked at him before turning away.

The next few hours were a blur to her. She was mostly occupied thinking if the snow was actually black in colour, what would winter look like. It would be quite horrible.

Imagine waking up, all excited for Christmas and seeing a vast of black snow in your front yard. It would be even worse seeing footprints on them too. The sky would be clouded with angry, dark clouds and Christmas would never be the same. It would be a dreadful day instead of a happy one.

"Submit your papers, students!" McGonagall called out with her shrill voice snapping the girl out of her train of thoughts.

She stood up and almost floated towards the professor before anyone could. She slammed her paper on the table startling poor McGonagall and sprinted out of the hall.