Chapter Text
Consequently, Tom spends the next week (or two) of the term completely ignoring Akira and her entire existence.
But she can’t even bring herself to be dejected about it. Or about his last sentence at their first tutoring session when he admitted to loathing how she makes him feel.
Since that Thursday, they’ve had seven tutoring sessions. Where Tom’s gone back to feigning a bland and gentlemanly mask that he uses with the rest of the castle that Akira’s never been fazed by. (Though she’d like to believe that the last three sessions he’s been warming up to her.)
(“Obviously foolish,” Tom thinks and rolls his eyes during one said session when he uses legilimency to peer into her thoughts and that’s what he comes across.) He then snaps at her to pay attention to the material he’s trying to get her to understand. They have a DADA exam coming up and Tom intends to be looked at in a good light when she does well and it reflects positively on his skills as a tutor. (He’s never claimed not to be self-centered.)
Other than their sessions where they’re forced to interact though, Akira has caught Tom letting her meet his eyes during classes and in the Great Hall numerous (countable limited) times. No matter, she’s eagerly taking whatever she can get. As is the usual in their relationship. So really it’s a win in Akira’s opinion. And as such, her smile hasn’t dropped from her face much since when she thinks about it. Which, she does think about it. Often.
Whenever Tom catches it on her or sees the expression and glimpses into her thoughts he always pulls out with a huff and distracts himself with other importances. (And secretly finds himself minding less and less. Which, no.) He wishes he could scold her for it. But that would require him to speak to her outside of what’s required and Tom can be stubborn too.
So as of now he’s still giving her the cold shoulder. Which is really warm compared to the ice he gives everyone else at all times when it comes to his true emotions and opinions. Never letting people behind his blank mask of the charming and intelligent Slytherin prefect and handsome boy he presents as. (Emphasis on the handsome. Salivating emphasis.)
(When he registers that in her thoughts on a Wednesday in Herbology he hisses at her to stop mooning at him when the Professor turns their back to the plants of the lesson and no one else is paying attention.) Though he doesn’t react with anything but a suspiciously fond (ignore the frown) shake of his head when she subsequently blushes but still smiles at him dreamily.
No shame in the girl if you ask him. He finds himself detesting that, about the Hufflepuff, not as much as he once did. He finds that about himself annoying.
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“So are you gonna continue ignoring me when we’re not in our tutoring sessions or what?” Akira inquires when she pops up out of nowhere while Tom is completing his prefect patrols through the corridors of the castle.
He glances at her while continuing walking, not amused. “I do not ignore you. I just don’t give you the attention you so desperately crave,” Tom counters.
Akira shrugs, “Same thing.” She has to pump her legs to keep up with Tom’s long-strides and fast pace. Curse his tallness, she thinks, and speeds up.
“Where did you come from?” Tom questions after rolling his eyes.
“The Hufflepuff common room,” she answers him astutely, “I knew you’d be around here at this time because I have your routes memorized.”
He frowns and glances at her out of the corner of his eye, “You’re not even slightly kidding, are you?” Akira just grins widely up at him. “Heart,” he admonishes.
She defends herself with a, “Well what else do you expect me to do?” and gives him those wide eyes. “After your whole admission of care for me- and yes,” she interjects before he can interrupt her and deny that statement, which he was definitely going to do, holding up a finger, “don’t argue, it was care, you admitted to caring for me. In your own way, anyway, after that, you’ve been avoiding me. Which obviously I noticed because I make a point to notice everything about you.”
“Stubborn little Hufflepuff,” Tom growls and returns his attention to the corridor in front of him as they walk.
“You know I’m beginning to think that’s a term of endearment—“
“Akira.”
“Okay, fine,” she sighs and smiles at him using her name as she moves the conversation along, “all I’m saying is you don’t have to ignore me. I’m not gonna make a big,” she pauses and corrects herself after a side eye from him and a moment of thought and self reflection, “alright, I’m not gonna make a huge deal about it. How could I when you’re so grumpy?”
“You always do things to irritate me when I’m ’grumpy’,” he points out with narrowed eyes as they turn a corner into another corridor and take the floating staircase up to another floor of the castle. Their footsteps echoing off the stone through the otherwise empty halls.
“Well everything irritates you so that’s not exactly fair,” Akira pouts and tugs at his robes, which earns her a glare.
Tom immediately threatens, “My toleration of you does not mean I won’t still hex you.” They both know he’s dead serious. It’s Tom.
“Promise?” Akira smiles at him brightly, eyes twinkling and head tilted back to gaze up at him.
“You are a very odd creature,” he remarks, promptly unamused. They turn a corner into the next corridor on Tom’s patrol.
“I think you like that about me.”
“I don’t like anything about you.”
“I think you do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You definitely do.”
“Heart,” Tom starts to threaten—
“If you didn’t you would’ve hexed me already,” Akira sing-songs pointedly.
Tom stops walking with a downward pull of his lips and narrows his eyes. Then he huffs a silently undignified breath. “You’re insufferable.”
“Not as insufferable as you find everyone else,” Akira points out matter of factly.
Tom glares at her out of the corner of his eye, “That is not a large accomplishment. I detest everyone.”
“And you detest how much you care for me,” she giggles and smiles brightly, eyes glittering with clear excitement and happiness.
“You will never let that go, will you?” He questions, inwardly regretting his lapse of judgement admitting that to her. Tom is not someone who feels these weaknesses called feelings. Let alone an individual capable of admitting them. But she’s relentless and stubborn and everywhere and. And. And everything. And he hates it.
“No, I don’t think I will.” Akira sniggers up at him, cheeks strained from how much she’s smiling. But silently, she’s observing his face, or more accurately, the look in his eyes. She softens at whatever she sees. He notices it immediately. She doesn’t try to hide it. “There’s just something about you that you don’t want me seeing. I haven’t quite figured it out just yet. Not really. But I will.” She says it like a vow. And then she faces forwards and continues on walking. Predictably, in the direction of Tom’s patrol route.
Tom doesn’t pause his stride, he’s too proper for that. But he does falter slightly, studying her as she walks. And deep down he thinks, there’s a part of Tom terrified to be cared for after so long in his childhood in the orphanage feeling alone. And seeing how determined Akira is to be there for him for this many years attending Hogwarts, not leaving even when he pushes her away, he’s afraid he may be giving in.
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“Oh, hi, Callum.” Akira looks up from where she’s studying in the library, alone, sadly, today isn’t a tutoring day with Tom, to see Callum Avery next to the table she’s seated at. Slytherin. Fellow sixth year. One of Tom’s dorm mates and peers.
Callum gives Akira his signature smile as he sits across from her now that she’s addressed him. “Akira,” he greets smoothly. “What are you working on?” Callum looks presentable like an heir of a sacred twenty-eight family should, but from the slight messy shag to his blonde hair and the sight of it still lightly damp, it’s obvious he’s just come from showering in the locker rooms after Slytherin quidditch practice.
She looks down at her parchment with a sigh. “DADA,” Akira informs him, “Tom’s been tutoring me in it but I’m trying to stay on top of it outside of our sessions.”
Avery nods understandably, having heard they’re doing that. “How’s it coming along then?” He inquires politely.
She smiles, eyes glimmering as she thinks back on her tutoring study sessions with Tom. “Well I think it’s going great. But maybe Tom would have a different opinion.”
Callum laughs, “Well, you know Riddle, he doesn’t enjoy much unless people take things as seriously as he does.”
“I’ll have you know I’m taking it perfectly seriously.” She replies mock primly, nose in the air like a proper pureblood (which he is distinctly not).
Avery watches amused, as an heir of a family belonging to the sacred twenty-eight, Callum has had much of his fare share of observing stuck up aristocratic rich people. Akira doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype. “I believe you, of course.” He assures her. “But Riddle’s version of serious and everyone else’s version of serious are quite different.”
She pouts and flops back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve gotten better with Tom’s help but it feels like it’s not enough for him and I don’t know what is.”
“Nothing but perfection when it comes to him.” Callum states with absolute certainty.
Akira sighs and tilts her head back. “Yeah, you’re right. I know you are. I get it. I do. It’s just, I’m not perfect. Far from it. And he’s… Tom.”
Avery nods immediately. “That he is. Riddle’s about as close to perfect any of us can get. And we all know it.”
(Besides Dumbledore it seems, Akira thinks, remembering their strange interaction in Transfiguration earlier…
Tom had been the first to complete the eyebrow color changing charm, ‘Crinus Muto’ during the lesson, but Dumbledore hadn’t even acknowledged his accomplishment. Just waited until another Slytherin completed the charm and congratulated them for being so fast at it.
Tom looked irritated, Akira had noticed. Not in an overt way. Tom is never so obvious as that to show his emotions. At least not the ones he doesn’t want to be seen. Which is most of them. But if you know what to look for, which Akira does, you see it. And she did. She saw the twitch of his eyebrows. The quirk down of his lips. The brief narrowing of his eyes. And when she’d dragged her eyes away from Tom with great effort, over to Dumbledore, she saw the Professor noticed it as well.
The two had made eye contact, Dumbledore and Tom. And for five whole seconds, neither seemed to give, maintaining the other’s gazes. Until a shriek across the lecture room had drawn Dumbledore’s attention and they both simultaneously looked away. Dumbledore to the student who had made an error, and Tom to Lestrange who asked Tom how he did with the charm. Looking for validation from their groups leader.
Akira had looked back and forth between them for quite a few moments, blinking, trying to put together the tension between her longtime crush and obsession and the transfiguration professor that has never weaned in all their years at Hogwarts.
It’s always been subtle. But it’s always been there.
When Akira had felt her wand hand twitch just thinking about it, she quickly redirected herself to her partner and continued on practicing the allotted days charm. But it ate away at her, in the back of her mind…)
“Akira. Hello? Earth to Akira? Heart!”
Akira blinks out of her thoughts and meets Callum’s eyes across the library table, returning to the present.
“You always go in your head. What do you do in there?” He wonders, looking her over, trying to decipher her in a way he often does that she can never wrap her head around. It’s not like how Tom does it. And she knows it’s not how she does it when observing Tom herself. Nevertheless, it continues to be a mystery to Akira. One she doesn’t know exactly if she’ll ever figure out.
“Think about puppies and kittens,” she replies and smiles at Callum, shaking off her thoughts for the moment. Well, as much as she can shake them off.
Callum shakes his head and smirks, “Cute,” he remarks dryly and runs his eyes over her expression.
Akira shrugs and props her arms on the library table, laying her chin on top of them, answering the question really this time, “I don’t know… stuff. There’s a lot going on up here, despite people either thinking I’m an airhead or a quiet thoughtless person.”
“I don’t think you’re an airhead,” he admits honestly, decrypting blue eyes meeting the earnest hazel hues directed at him, “or a quiet thoughtless person.”
“Well, yeah, I mean, you’re you,” Akira smiles and tilts her head. “You’ve seen all my odd moods and behaviors by now. Just from me orbiting around you and your friends by way of Tom.”
At the mention of Tom, something flickers in Callum’s eyes that Akira doesn’t notice. She doesn’t notice people the way she notices Tom. She’s observant, but not that much so. Reading people as a whole has never been her specialty. More noticing the obvious signs around her. It’s always been different with Tom. She’s always been different.
“Right,” Callum smiles slightly and shakes his head, “right you are, Heart. That is why. Definitely.” His gaze flickers down to the wood of the library table, fingers tracing some imaginary line or pattern only he can see with his fingertips, tapping the surface. “Of course.”
Akira nods, completely oblivious, and figures she might as well take a break for now, closing her book and sliding her parchments of notes into one pile. “So,” she perks up, looking over at him, “how’s it going with that Potions essay?”
The two drift into a conversation about their shared assignments and lessons topics in different subjects. Just talking, as they sometimes do. Callum can be different around her when they’re alone, without his other Slytherin housemates around. More indulgent. More interactive. But out of all Tom’s dorm mates and peers, he’s still always the most attention giving when they’re in the large group. It’s why she knows he’s not faking it when it’s just the two of them like this in the library. Callum may be a proper pureblood heir and son of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family, but he’s not fake. Just cunning like any other Slytherin.
Most surprising, he’s never once called her a Mudblood. Even in first year. Not all of the boys in Tom’s dorm or group can say the same.
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The next Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the Professor comments on Akira’s improvement on the subject and resulting good marks on the exam, and then, naturally, with no surprise there, ends up praising Tom and complimenting him for her betterment. Akira doesn’t really mind. Not at all actually. She’s never been one who needs praise or requires it to feel good. She’s too awkward for that, in fact. But underneath his perfect student mask, Tom preens like a peacock at getting compliments and praise. The self-interested wizard that he is.
Afterwards, Tom interestingly, this time, is the one to come up to her while leaving the lesson. “It seems our tutoring is working.” He remarks monotonously.
She looks up at him and her cheeks puff up, lips quirking big at the edges, tilting her head curiously, “Did you think it wasn’t?”
“I had assumed you’d been too busy staring at me during our sessions to learn something,” he states matter of factly, dead serious, he doesn’t even blink (those gorgeous deep dark mysterious brown eyes)
Akira shakes her head quickly and blinks, snapping out of her daydreaming. And by the feeling currently tingling on her side, he definitely just sent a harmless stinging hex at her. “Sorry,” she blurts and gets her mind somewhat back on track. “Yes, well, my staring at you seems to boost my study efficiency. Something about the fact that I’m always thinking of you or whatever, probably.” She smiles brightly up at him.
(“Cheeky,” he thinks, and narrows his eyes at her) “Just don’t mess up my academic reputation.” He states firmly, with a strong perilous air to him. But that’s just normal Tom on a regular Tuesday. So she doesn’t think much of it.
“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing,” Akira vows vehemently and scrunches her nose. “Merlin and Morgana knows you’d hex me where I stand if I messed with your very studious and perfect prestige standing around the castle.”
“I would.” He keeps his eyes right on hers. “Painfully.” He promises.
“Oh, Tommy, you say the sweetest things,” she sighs and turns away to continue walking like he just uttered some romantic psalm admitting his adoration for her.
“You need an exorcism.” Tom calls after her, not loud, but louder than one would normally hear Tom Riddle speaking in the corridors, drawing attention from other students walking in the castle hall. More attention than the usual natural attention he gets. Just by being Tom Riddle.
“I’d gladly partake in one if you were doing the exorcising.” Akira speaks back at him and waves enthusiastically with a perky expression before continuing on to her next lesson. A noticeable skip in her step as she moves down along through the corridors.
“That bloody Hufflepuff,” Tom hisses under his breath and turns on his heel, continuing on his way with an equally as noticeable non skip in his step. One would think he was considering committing murder if people didn’t underestimate the darkness deep inside handsome, prefect, Slytherin Prince golden boy, most intelligent student in the castle Tom Marvolo Riddle. But because they do, they just see his usual composed expression with a thoughtful tinge to it. (“Idiots,” Tom rolls his eyes internally.)
————————————————————————
“If you must know, I think about your eyes more than your looks. But they’re certainly not unappreciated.”
“I mustn’t. I mustn’t know.” Tom states with a frown on his face, looking utterly over this conversation. (“Even though I already do know because I can read her bloody thoughts. Like everybody else’s in this castle. But Dumbledore. Nevermind, let me not think about that old man. Dreadful.”) But it just comes across as modest to the girl across in front of him.
“I’m just saying, who can be blamed for admiring what’s right there in front of us? I mean, it’s not like you mind, right? You’re Tom Riddle. You love the attention!”
“No, of course not,” Tom agrees mock pleasantly, flashing a disarming fake charming smile. Works like clockwork. (“Yes, I mind you hag,”)
“Oh, good! Good! I knew you would. You’re just understanding like that Tom. Truly!”
Tom currently wonders how he doesn’t have a sneer on his face presently that everyone and their pets can see in the Slytherin common room. But then he remembers his master manipulation skills and knows. Obviously. (Inwardly, he rolls his eyes.) Outwardly, he’s as much his normal self as ever.
“Are you looking forward to the Halloween masquerade ball they’re throwing this year after the feast? It’s the talk of the castle!” The excitement radiating on the girls face and intention glittering in her eyes makes Tom want to hex a many few people. Alas, he refrains.
“Ecstatic,” Tom replies in agreement, once again perfectly deadpan and coming across perfectly and appropriately enthusiastic. “I, as well as you, have heard much.”
“My dress is gonna be this most wondrous shade of yellow! It’ll blow everyone away, I’m telling you!” Yellow, like one of Hufflepuff’s house colors.
Tom quirks his lips while secretly it’s an attempt not to frown at frivolous fashion talks. “Is the point of a masquerade ball not for people to be unaware of who you are and subsequently, what you are wearing, to hide your identity?”
“No, yes, of course! I just thought you might like a hint as to what I’ll be donning in case you wish to observe me there?” There’s hope in her tone and expression. (Oh how Tom wishes he could crush it.)
“Yellow, I’ll surely remember,” He notes. (He will, and he wishes he wouldn’t. But remarkable memory has its ups and downs, he supposes.)
“Tom!” Suddenly, Valerius Mulciber comes bounding over from the entrance to the Slytherin common room which he’s just arrived through, straight for the two of them. “There’s an, umm, situation, currently. That requires your attention.” He side eyes the company Tom has out of the corner of his vision. “Umm, Prefect situation,” he lies, but Tom gets what he’s trying to imply and have Tom infer.
“Yes. I’m coming right away.” Tom looks from Mulciber to who sits across from him he’s been conversing with, bidding his leave, (“Thank Salazar,”) “Well, I must excuse myself. But delightful conversation we’ve had Parkinson.” (That’s a lie. That’s such a big lie Tom even almost struggles to say it a minuscule amount.)
“Goodbye, Tom!” Parkinson continues to address him informally after his clear formal dismissal intention of the practice.
(At this point Tom much rather would deal with whatever mess he’s heading to following Valerius Mulciber than have to sit with Parkinson one more second. Bad luck to whoever involved in this situation he’s coming to with such irritation built up.)
Merlin help them.
Merlin. Help. Them.