There was precious little Anastasia trusted more than her intuition. So when she had the nagging feeling that something was wrong she didn't dismiss it. Sticking to the shadows of the hallways and being careful to make as little noise as possible, she had crept behind one Lucretia Black, positive all the while that her intuition would pay off. She walked quietly behind the girl for some time, as the other girl took several back pathways before stopping in front of an unremarkable tapestry on the 7th floor. She wondered fleetingly if she was wrong to be suspicious of Black when the girl in question chanced a hurried look around the otherwise empty corridor before disappearing behind the aged fabric.

Counting the seconds to ensure a full two minutes had passed she approached the tapestry. What could Black be up to that would require her to sneak from the dungeons to the 7th floor in the dead of the night? She shuffled along the wall until she was flush with the lip of the alcove. From her position, she could hear the rustling of clothes and the wet smacking of mouths to skin. She smiled to herself. There was no way Ignatius Prewett was the one accosting his betrothed as he had graduated two years prior. The little trollop. This would make for quite the piece of leverage. She lifted her hand to draw back the tapestry and see just who she would have leverage over when a monosyllabic name froze her action.

"Tom!"

That single breathy moan turned her blood to ice. Her skin grew clammy and her heart thundered. She must have misheard there was no way that—

"Oh, Tom."

Lucretia's exhalation was softer this time, but there was no mistaking what she'd said. If Black's moaning was to be believed she was involved in quite the tryst with none other than Tom Riddle.

Before she could stop herself Anastasia ripped back the tapestry. Riddle's hair was in a state, the typically immaculate style long since departed in Black's possessive clutches. His robes had been shed and several buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a long line of hit pale torso. His unbuckled belt hung loosely around his narrow hips, his trousers seemingly intact. Despite their apparent haste she had managed to interrupt them before they began copulating.

Tom's head snapped in her direction at the noise, and Lucretia, undeterred by his distraction, took the opportunity to lavish loud, wet kisses on his skin. He was staring directly at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Her eyes flicked down to his neck which was littered in angry love bites before coming back to his eyes. She wasn't imagining it, he was looking directly at her. She quickly looked down to see that she was quite visible in the entryway. He must have countered her spell.

He stood stock-still, hips pressed intimately into Lucretia, eyes wide and disbelieving. A series of emotions quickly flit over his face before it settled on his rendition of pleading. The last thing she saw before she hurried away was his mouth opening. No doubt with some lie. It didn't matter though. None of it did.

She was surprised when she made it back to the safety of the common room without incident. The trek to the alcove had been quite the adventure in staying undetected, so to run straight to the common room, down the main staircase undetected felt like a blessing. She had just made it to the top of the stairs to the girls' dormitory, desperately out of breath, when he burst into the room, the portrait slamming shut in his wake.

"Let me explain."

Her chest and sides burned as she tried—with limited success—to reign in her breathing and her scattered emotions. She didn't turn to face him when she responded, finding it infinitely easier to address him when she wasn't subject to the full weight of his charm.

"Explain what exactly Tom?"

The only sound to be heard above the crackling hearth was their heavy breathing.

"Anastasia—"

"I'm sure there's nothing that you can say that will have the effect that you desire Mr Riddle." She clenched her hands into fists to stop their shaking. Desperate to regain control of herself. "So why don't we just save ourselves the trouble and go about our respective ways, hm?"

She turned to regard him at last, cataloguing his appearance. He stood before her now, pristine as always. Hair sitting just so, uniform unwrinkled, the headboy badge pinned to his robes. She frowned; it was a stark contrast to what she had just walked in on. Even the love bites were gone.

"Come here, Anastasia."

Laughter bubbled out of her unbidden. And then she laughed some more. It was insulting that he thought her so stupid.

"Now Mr Riddle, why would I do a thing like that?" she asked, a demure smile tilting her lips.

"I'd like to have this conversation civilly."

"I'm not certain that there is a conversation to be had, Mr Riddle."

She didn't miss the twitch of his jaw or the way his hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

"I'd rather not let the entire house be privy to anything we may discuss." He practically hissed the last word which sent a shiver down her spine.

She dropped her voice low, "Is that why you instructed her to find you on the 7th floor? No Slytherin would stumble across you fucking her up there, and it's close enough to the heads dorms that you could explain away why you'd been out of bed should you be seen on your way back."

She couldn't help the wicked smile that twister her lips when a sneer attempted to claim his handsome face. Apparently she'd hit the target with that one.

Looking away from him briefly she surveyed the common room. It was empty but for a few of their classmates who were clearly listening with rapt interest, try as they might to appear otherwise. She envied them their positions now, it was never advisable to be the cause of the drama.

"Where is she anyway, your whore?"

She was sure his jaw would snap if he clenched it any harder. At this rate, she was surprised that he hadn't ground his teeth to a fine powder. His fight to keep his emotions in check played out across his face, an angry red flush marring his neck. Fought to keep his precious little secret to himself. She watched as he kept his lips firmly closed with a smirk. So he thought that he could save face by not answering her?

"My apologies Mr Riddle, it was not my intention to offend your delicate sensibilities with the use of such crass language to describe the amorous embrace in which I found you. Permit me to rephrase," she said, her smile downright predatory.

"Where is Lucretia Black?"

The hearth crackled merrily. There wasn't a person in the room whose attention wasn't focused on the pair of them. Good, she thought, let them watch. While this wasn't how she had intended to use this bit of information she wasn't about to let Tom Riddle get away with his deceit. She hadn't wanted to show her hand so soon as it would have been preferable to have something in her back pocket about Lucretia.

He weighed his options for several long minutes before he responded. There was no way for him to get out of this cleanly, she had made sure of that.

"She's in the hospital wing," he said, clasping his fingers together in front of him.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He wouldn't? Would he?

"You know Mr Riddle, most respectable pureblood witches learn of the contraception charm at the passing of our first cycle. Mayhaps Ms Black should ask her mother for assistance so you needn't rush her to Madame Dupont every time you two...embrace."

Her blood chilled at the toothy grin he gave her.

"Anastasia dove, you needn't worry. As you well know I'm very careful myself." She felt blood rush to her face and was grateful for her dark skin, his attempt to embarrass her thwarted. Gripping the rail of the stairs he placed one foot on the still solid step as he leaned towards her. "It would appear that Ms Black had a run-in with the wrong end of a cruciatus curse."

His words were sickeningly sweet in tone causing bile to church uncomfortably in her gut. The silence stretched between them, his gaze never leaving hers as he addressed the eavesdropping stragglers in the common room, not breaking eye contact with her to do so.

"All of you get out. Now."

He hadn't raised his voice, the threat inherent from relaying Lucretia's condition. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him as the room was vacated.

No sooner had the final door closed than he had blanketed the Slytherin common room with a privacy charm.

She didn't speak, didn't move. She just watched him. He removed his foot from the now slippery ramp and released the rail, returning to his full height.

"Please come here, Anastasia. I won't be asking again."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"And why Merlin tell, would I do that? Let's see, oh, so you could push me up against a wall and kiss me silly? Tell me how sorry you are in that voice we both know I can't say no to? Finish what you started with Lucretia?"

She was seething by the time she was finished and he was in much a similar state of agitation.

"Lucretia meant nothing."

She laughed again. "Was that supposed to make me feel better Riddle? Merlin how could you be so stupid."

His jaw twitched—either at the use of his surname or the insult to his prized intellect— and she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her lips. He was so predictable. Well sometimes anyway.

"What exactly does that say about how you felt about me? Is what we had so meaningless that it was worth it to throw it away on someone that 'meant nothing'?"

"What we have." He said, his tone resolute.

She sneered at him. "You'd have to be as fucking mad as a hatter if you think there's still something between us."

"Anastasia."

She ignored his pleading tone, ignored how his voice dropped to something almost sinful, how his eyes begged her to hear him out.

"How many times?"

He didn't respond, but at least the trap that he had laid was now gone and in its place was poorly contained anger.

"How. Many. Times. Riddle."

"I don't know!" It was a roar that cut through the deafening silence.

She winced, "That many, I see. I must have meant a lot less than I had supposed." She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She would not cry here. Not in front of him.

"Was she at least good? Was the sex worth it?"

She didn't expect him to respond, although her traitorous emotions wished that he would. Wished that he would say that it hadn't been worth it to lose her. Hadn't been worth a second of the pain he had caused her. So his next words left her winded.

"It was adequate."

Opening her eyes, she saw the man that she had fallen for. Beautiful and damaged and her heart broke anew.

"Just what every girl wants to hear."

She fled to her room, not waiting for a response.