Dusk Till Dawn {tom riddle}

part three - scrimmages

The first few rounds of the selection process were to be done behind doors and through meetings, dinners, and balls, all of which excluded the ordinary people. These events were to be the most exclusive of the year, and nearly every first, second, and third-year was eager to get an invitation.

The fourth years and up knew better than to brown-nose a group of stuck-up blokes, so they took to the "I don't care" attitude whenever these exclusive events were mentioned. But secretly, every student wished for their very own shot at royalty. 

You climbed up the tall staircase of the Astronomy tower, feeling a bit brighter than usual. With the talk of the town being the first upcoming royal dinner, no one seemed to pay attention to the Hogwarts Daily. In fact, it was quite evident that whoever was running the gossip column didn't have the ins and outs of the royal family and was losing their traction very quickly. Their most recent attempt at garnering attention was giving themselves a pen name: The Midnight Lady

"I could come up with about a dozen better names they could have chosen," Ginny was trailing behind you, her fiery red mane combed into a sleek ponytail.

"It's pathetic, really. They've started reporting the grades of Ravenclaws, it's so low." Hermione appeared out of nowhere and kept up her pace.

It surely was nice being able to take a break from the rumors, and you felt that The Midnight Lady finally got what was coming to them.

After the three of you parted, you reached the balcony that over looked the south grounds of the castle. A translucent white sheet of frost laid across the field, and a few students were making their way down to Hagrid's hut. Somehow you found yourself alone, which was unusual since you were always late to Astronomy. Then it dawned upon you- an Astronomy class this early in the morning would be doing theories and practical studies in the lower west wing.

Groaning to yourself because it was yet another ten minute walk, you ran into the sturdy chest of a familiar black haired boy.

"Sorry- oh, it's you." You scowled bitterly. He glared down at you with an irritated expression.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Tom. Or should I call you Duke Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior and do a little curtsy?" You bowed down to him mockingly, and he glared at you like you were the scum of the Earth.

"Get up, you look pathetic. I don't expect someone like you to understand the formalities of royalty."

"And you do? I would have thought men of the Crown learned how to treat women with respect. What were you doing in the girl's bathroom anyway?"

He pursed his lips into a thin straight line. "I would have thought a Black would know not to question their superiors. Or did your parents neglect to teach you that too?"

Your mouth suddenly ran dry.

"Yes, I know exactly who you are. You're a spitting image of your mother, Celivia."

"I see my reputation precedes me."

He nodded, the corners of his lips slightly twitching upwards in a cruel smile.

"I'm sure your mother would love to hear all about how you've treated me during my very short time here."

You clenched your fists, heat swimming to your cheeks in swirling bright pools of red. Your head began to feel light and dizzy from the anger that coursed through you, something you didn't even know you were capable of.

"Then why don't you? Go ahead and punish me for all I care. I'm used to it." You spat.

His smirk fell and was replaced by an almost offended expression. "If I wanted to punish you I would have already."