I'm Oliver You, Tom Riddle

Slug Club

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AND FINALLY I GET THIS REGULARLY SCHEDULED CHAPTER OUT. AFTER HOW LONG??

The picture this time is of Elle Fanning. I imagine her as Guenevere.
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Tom was two corridors down from the Great Hall. It was quiet at this hour, every student in the Great Hall, and it gave Tom time to think about things. Things like his Knights of Walpurgis, what their next plan was, how to break it to Oliver of his eventual plans to run for Minister of Magic and eradicate all mudbloods, muggles, and half-bloods-very few exceptions will be allowed in that department, what with Oliver being half attractive monster and everything, Tom figured he'd have to be delicate about the situation.

Although, now that Tom thought about it, if Oliver asked nicely, Tom would probably spare all monster half-bloods, if only to keep him happy and smiling brightly.

He had been going through several different scenarios about how Oliver would take the news, not looking where he was going, but instinctively knowing how to get to his destination instead, when he heard someone calling for him from behind. It was a female voice, so he knew who it would be right from the get-go.

"Tom Riddle, would you please wait for me, my dove?" Guenevere called him by his given pet name.

Tom sighed heavily and stopped. Guenevere and Andrea would be spared. So would Robert, if it would appease Oliver.

While he waited, he took in the usual sights of the dungeons: cold, damp stone walls that smelled slightly of mildew; a few portraits of old witches with tall, wide brimmed, pointed hats and wizards with gaudy robes, and massive jewels on each finger; and candles handing from the walls that barely lit anything on their own, let alone an entire hallway. Magic was used to light the rest of the way, Oliver had decided in their third year and told Tom about his theory. Tom, of course, believed him.

Guenevere eventually caught up and beamed brightly, her nose wrinkling slightly from the force of her smile. "Thank you for waiting."

"Of course. If I didn't wait for you, you'd tell Oliver again." Tom shrugged.

"And I don't see the problem with that. All he does is talk with you about ignoring pretty girls." Guenevere motioned for them to continue their trek.

Tom took the lead, and Guenevere fell into step with him. "And you wouldn't. You don't sleep with him at night, oh no. You've got your very own dorm, far away from Oliver while he talks, endlessly, at night."

"How does he sleep." Guenevere giggled.

"Him? What about me?" Guenevere giggled again. "You see, sometimes he doesn't sleep. And I must suffer. Suffer the endless questions like, our dorm mates name is James. So Oliver asks "why is James spelled with an S? Why is it plural? More than one Jame. How many James?"."

Guenevere laughed again, bringing her hand up to her mouth to stifle the loudness. "And what did you say?"

"I told him to sleep. But he couldn't. So I had to play with him."

Guenevere laughed harder. "Play with him?" Her eyebrows shot up, unbelieving.

"Yes. I had to get out of bed, go to his trunk and pull out his chess board. We had a tiring game of chess that lasted two hours."

"Oh, chess! I thought you meant something else!" She giggled again, eyes shining with mirth.

"What else would I mean?" Tom was confused. How else does one go about playing with their friend?

"Nothing, nothing." She waved his question off.

Dropping the topic, they continued chatting until they reached Professor Slughorn's office; their usual meeting place for the Slug Club. Many other students had already arrived by the time they got there, which didn't bother Guenevere too much. Tom, however, was punctual and despised being late to anything.