I do NOT own Harry Potter or the characters. I do NOT own anything which someone else clearly owns. This story is purely fan made and does not represent the ideas of the original author, J.K. Rowling.

Now that that fooey is over, I hope you enjoy this. I was watching the second Harry Potter movie again {the millionth or so time} and when I got to the part where little Tom is shown and Myrtle {dead body} comes carried out, a thought struck me. Me, being the hopeless romantic that I am-one who makes a bigger deal out of relationships than are need be, thought, "Hey...I wonder what ELSE went on between Tom and Myrtle." So, here I am, writing what I think should have happened. Blah, blah blah...be critical all you want. It's interesting though...and I hope you guys like Myrtle as much as I do. For once, she's not whiny and irritating {and kinda creepy in the I'm-a-ghost-so-I'll-stalk-Prefects kind of way). Still, she's got that firey temper that we all know and love. Enjoy!

Chapter One:

The Strange Affairs

Thunder clouds rolled loudly over the school as students, clad in their uniforms, raced to find shelter. A young girl with long brown hair flung herself underneath the nearest corridor, leaning against the cold stone to catch her breath. She patted herself down, trying to find a dry bit of clothing she could use to wipe her rain speckled glasses with. It was useless. She was completely drenched to her underwear.

"Damn it." Myrtle Brennan muttered, running a pale hand through her hair. This was just what she needed-a set of soaking wet, see through uniforms right before class. She mentally cursed herself for lounging out on the other side of the castle. Still, Rowdy McGregor had asked nicely for help with his Potions homework, and she did enjoy helping her fellow students out. Her skills had to come in somewhere.

But now here she was, her white button down shirt clinging to her not-particularly-seductive body and her bra was probably showing, save the annoyingly thin tie that fell straight down her chest. Myrtle cursed the dark blue bra she had chosen for the day. Why, oh why, could she not be like other girls and always remember that one was to wear a white bra with a white shirt at all times?! It was no wonder Sabetha Reynolds, Myrtle's best friend, said that Myrtle was least feminine girl she had ever come across.

And-of course-she had not brought her cloak. Curses.

The frantic buzzing of students around her jolted her back to reality, reminding her that-despite her wardrobe malfunction, she still had to get to Transfiguration. Myrtle doubted that Professor McGonagal would appreciate a student being late. However, under the circumstances, Myrtle might get away…No, it was not worth the risk.

Myrtle reached into her soaked canvas bag, pulled out her wand and muttered a quick, simple drying spell.

Sometimes she forgot she was a witch.

Thank God she was.

The classroom was almost full by the time Myrtle got there, save for a few students who's claim to fame was their tardiness. Thankfully, the young teacher was nowhere in sight. Myrtle raced to her assigned seat near the back of the classroom. She shoved her bag onto the floor beside her feet and dropped her head onto the desk.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Do you mind?" A voice made Myrtle stop her self-abuse. Her brown eyes met the hazel eyes of a boy. Not just any boy either.

"Sorry…" she muttered, tearing her gaze from that of Tom Riddle's. The boy glared at her for a fleeting second before turning back to face the front of the classroom.

Tom Riddle never made any sense. He was popular-there was no doubt about that. After all, most Slytherins were popular, especially the ones that looked as good as Tom Riddle. He was wealthy and he was brilliant. Tom easily gave the teachers a run for their money. But, unlike every other popular student-Olive Hornby for example-he was awfully quiet. Tom did not prance around Hogwarts like he was a god-though from the openly lustrous glances he was getting from every girl in the classroom he could surely be mistaken. He did not feel the need to gossip constantly or find a way to be the center of attention. No, if Myrtle was not mistaken, all forms of the stereotypical popular kid were wasted on Tom, despite the looks and the cash. Tom Riddle could easily be mistaken for one of her kind…an outcast of sorts. He seemed to have a permanent chip on his shoulder, always glaring with this eternal pissed off expression in his eyes. Myrtle supposed that was what made him so…attractive, if that was the correct word.

Yes, Tom Riddle was definitely a bad boy.

Myrtle shook her head, not allowing herself to dwell too much on the boy. She had had classes with Tom for six years and not once had he ever really noticed her existence, unless of course, they were forced to work on a project together, or-like just now-he was snarling at her for doing something obnoxious. Myrtle may have found herself prey to penny romance novels but she was logical enough to know that she did not live in one. Tom Riddle would be saved for someone else to remember.

Professor McGonnagal would be a very attractive woman, had she not seemed so…knotted up. The young teacher always wore her brown hair tied in a tight knot at the back of her head. Her thin glasses rode on the end of her nose and the robes she wore were something Myrtle would spot in her grandmother's closet. Teachers were not supposed to be attractive, Myrtle figured.

The Professor began her lesson and Myrtle dropped her head into her palm, not bothering to listen. She was intelligent enough to go a class period or four without paying attention. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Tom Riddle again. He was not paying attention either. Myrtle wondered if he ever did. She tried not to make a sport out of staring at him.

"Can I help you with something?" It was that sneer again. Myrtle blinked, realizing that she had in fact been staring at Tom.

"Nope. Sorry, I just dozed off." Myrtle turned her head from his, forcing back the blush that definitely was itching to cross her face. Tom 'humphed' and glanced back at McGonagal.

Myrtle sighed. Yes, this was turning out to be a very, very crappy day.

************

"You know, sometimes I really envy you, My." Sabetha muttered, tossing her blonde pony tail over her shoulder. Myrtle glared at her friend. There was no reason on the planet for Sabetha to ever be jealous of her. What with Sabetha's prettiness and her ability to fit in…

"Why on earth…?"

Sabetha fixed her hair, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Myrtle rolled her eyes, lying comfortably on her bed. The storm continued to rage outside.

"You can shrug everything off, you know? Nothing is ever that big of a deal to you." Myrtle did not know whether that was an insult or a compliment.

"Thank you?"

"Well, see, here is the thing." Sabetha's hands fell to her side. "I asked Tom to Hogsmeade with me this weekend and he completely blew me off. I know I'm not really popular, but I'm not totally unpopular…you would think the guy could give me a chance…"

Myrtle sat up apruptly in her bed.

"You're kidding me!"

"Yeah." Sabetha growled. "He was totally ungentlemen-like."

"No, no, no. I mean, you seriously asked Riddle to go with you?" Sabetha glanced at her. She raised a brow prettily before smoothing down her blonde hair again.

"Of course I asked Tom Riddle to go with me. Where have you been, Myrtle? He's absolutely dishy. Quidditch does that boy well."

Myrtle rolled her eyes behind her glasses. "Exactly. Isn't he kind of out of your league?"

Sabetha gasped. "That was rather rude. Are you telling me that I could not get a boy like Tom Riddle?"

Myrtle laughed. "That is exactly what I am saying."

Sabetha picked up her pillow and thrust it at her friend's head; thus started another exciting pillow fight.

Dinner was being served by the time Sabetha and Myrtle rose out of bed and dressed. It was still raining cats and dogs, so Myrtle pulled a sweater over her head and pulled on her comfiest pair of jeans. She pulled her own wavy brown hair into a messy bun and waited by the door for Sabetha who was putting finishing touches on her make up.

The two best friends hurried out of the corridors and down the staircase to the Great Hall. It was already buzzing with excitement-courtesy of the rain storm. Sabetha led the way to the Ravenclaw table. Myrtle glanced around the hall, not sure what she was looking for.

Or who…

Myrtle shook her head and began piling her plate with whatever she could. Sabetha was talking animatedly beside her to Morgan Waters and Georgina Sampson. Myrtle ate in silence, her mind wandering, as it usually did. She thought about Sabetha's attempt to ask Tom Riddle out. It was almost laughable. It wasn't that Sabetha wasn't pretty enough-no, Sabetha was gorgeous. She had long, straight, silky blonde hair, cobalt blue eyes and a clean, tan complexion. Yes, Sabetha could get any boy with her looks-however, Tom Riddle was just different.

He wasn't seen with his arm draped around a new tart every week. He didn't flirt with all the ladies. In fact, in the six years Myrtle had known the boy he never was seen alone with another girl. He kept to himself; not that that stopped any of the girls. Girls practically threw themselves at him. Tom Riddle may have been an unpleasant sort of fellow to the naked eye, but he was charming, Myrtle supposed.

He had short, wavy chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a good build, probably from all those years he had devoted to Quidditch. His square jaw was always set-due to the unnerving frown that was plastered to his face. Yes, Tom Riddle was very good looking. Not that she would ever admit that.

Sabetha was, in fact, pretty enough. Myrtle knew for a fact that there were plenty of boys who would love to take her to Hogsmeade. Still, even beautiful and athletic Sabetha stood no chance with the cold and calculated Tom Riddle. It just did not fit.

Of course, Myrtle was no catch herself. She absent mindedly began smoothing down her brown hair, fixed her glasses-which were already straight on her nose, and ran her tongue against her teeth to remove any food. Compared to most of the girls her age, Myrtle was plain, boring looking. She had pale skin and a slim frame. She had brown eyes, copies of her father who had long since passed away-an accident in one of the machine farms, so the boss had said, and everyone was truly, deeply sorry.

Even at sixteen, Myrtle did not have much to brag about. Her breasts were small, underdeveloped still. She had a clean complexion and a flat stomach-courtesy of a health obsessed mother. Her hair was thick and full, beautiful chestnut waves that fell all the way to her mid back. But the attractiveness ended there. Other than a spotless face and volumised locks, Myrtle could not find a decent thing about her looks; least of all anything that would attract someone like Tom Riddle.

Gorgeous, silent dreamboats like Tom Riddle did not go for gawky, angry girls like Myrtle Brennan.

"Don't worry about him, Sabetha!" Margret Ramsey cried, indigently. Sabetha had told them about Tom Riddle and his rude decline to Hogsmeade. Myrtle bit her lip and dropped her eyes to her plate, to refrain from rolling her eyes. The other Ravenclaw girls did this all the time. They would all be smitten with a boy, he would blow off one of the girls and would become a rude obnoxious toerag who didn't deserve a minute of so-and-so's time and right after, they would be all over him too. By the time they got up to their dorms one of the girls would have already grabbed Tom Riddle's elbow and tell him 'how obnoxious it must be to have silly little girls not getting the hint'.

Georgina Sampson looked away. She was the only other girl who noticed the girls' behavior. Already Megan and Margret were eying Tom Riddle appreciatively.

Not wanting any part of the scheme, Myrtle downed her food quickly and shuffled to her feet. She told Sabetha and the others that she wanted to finish her book before it got too late and left the Great Hall with a sigh of relief. There was no fun listening to gossip that obviously did not concern her or anything she really cared about. Sabetha would get over Tom's rejection in no time. Tom rejected people all the time, it was no big deal.

The thought made Myrtle stop. What did she know, anyway? She had never asked a boy out, or been asked out. She kept to herself, burying her face in her work or a good book, ignoring the social world of Hogwarts, sans the Quidditch matches she eagerly attended.

But she was oblivious to the world of romance. She could say she understood them from the Muggle romance novels that lined the makeshift bookcase beside her bed, but in reality she was dumb. Maybe being rejected by Tom Riddle actually meant something to someone like Sabetha.

She shook her head, choosing not to dwell on it any longer. Sabetha would be just fine, she thought, as she trudged to her room.