- Why do I always feel like I'm drowning?

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I wake up, my eyes whipping open, and I groan in pain. My head rushed up to clutch my head. I was parched to the degree that my tongue felt like sandpaper. It was scraping my throat so roughly, I agonized me to swallow.

I see a glass beside my bed and try to chug it down only to spit it back out. "Ughhhh." I groan, turning around in my bed to see Greta lying on the bed beside mine. Beside her bed was a sleeping Malfoy.

"You." I snarl, making Malfoy jump up in fear. Light sleeper he was.

"Valentine," Malfoy says, and I sneer.

"Don't go near her, you loathsome, evil coach roach!"

"You don't understand! I was worried about her!"

"Worried! YOU put her here!!" I almost shout in my anger. He hangs his head, ashamed. He should be. I see Abby sleeping by the foot of my bed. She was fast asleep lying face down on the covers.

Claude and Chris were also asleep in chairs around my bed and Greta's. Pan was sleeping in a manner very similar to Abby's, at the foot of Greta's hospital bed, huddled into a tight ball.

"Get out." I snarl at him. "Get out, or I'll curse you so bad, you'll lose your arm."

He pales. "Just tell her- tell her-" I interrupt him, eyes hard.

"I'm not relaying a message to my best friend from the boy that almost killed her." That was all it took for him to leave. He left before I could insult him more to my drastic displeasure.

"Valentine?" Claude grunts and opens his eyes tiredly. I shoot him one of my own tired smiles. "Hey, Claude," I whisper, and he looked devastated. "I'm so sorry." He croaks.

"You and Abby and Greta. Oh, dear Greta. You and Abby saved her, and we couldn't even find her." He was close to tears.

I reach up and grab the redhead's hand. He had a heart of gold this one.

"It's not your fault. It's Malfoy's." I state, and Claude's eyes harden.

"I punched him. The arse was whimpering from the aftereffects of yours and Abby's attacks. He had the balls to whimper like a child after what he did to Greta. How could anyone harm Greta? Greta, Valentine? She wouldn't hurt a fly." Claude looked ready to rip his hair out.

"We saved her. Nothing left to do except make sure he never goes near her again."

I give him a look, and the Gryffindor sighs before nodding.

"Are you alright? Professor Merrythought told us that Tom and you performed an exceedingly powerful spell to heal Greta. It drained you two to the point of unconsciousness." Claude looks at me in worry, and I face a soft laugh.

"Other than feeling like I've gotten run over by a bulldozer....I'm fine." I muse, making him give me a pained smile.

"Merrythought said Greta had been seconds from death. With all that blood around her, it was a surprise she hadn't died. That's why it took so much out of you guys. Greta wasn't merely dying... Merrythought said she was sure Greta had died."

I mull over this in my head. Necromancy? I swear if the goblet gave Tom and me Necromancy, I would punch something. Tom had touched the cup as well, I realize.

He'd touched the goblet and had plenty of time to obtain specific powers.

Grandmother Helga had said that the goblet usually gave powers to the holder of the cup; she didn't specify whether or not he or she had to be a descendant.

"Oh, marvellous." I groan, my head starting to hurt even more. "Are there any painkillers here for my head?" I ask Claude, making him spring up, wanting to help.

"I'll go check for you." He gives the top of my head a swift pat, like I was a child, and quietly races over to find a healer.

Pulling out my necklace, I prop my compass open. The image changes instantly from Greta's mangled and bloodied up body.

The sight has me sucking in a breath of shock. The compass could've warned me about Greta. I instantly felt the wave of guilt hit me, but it's replaced by a curious intrigue when a blonde woman is shown. A woman was smirking up at me. Her smirk was mocking.

Her red lipstick was so bright; I had to blink a bit to get the sight out of my mind.

Her hair was bright yellow, like a fluttering dandelion in the summer sunshine and her scrunched up nose and thin lips were in an expression of utter loathing.

I snap the compass shut instantly.

My gaze falls on the bed to my left.

There he was.

There was Tom.

My visions swarm back into my head, and I couldn't help but want to cry.

He had two futures set out in front of him. I'd felt like the visions were telling me he had two paths. Either he would become Lord Voldemort, getting Bellatrix pregnant eventually, or he could live a normal life.... a happy life with me and Ariana.

I wanted the second choice, I realize.

I wanted to help this boy who'd entangled his future in mine so tightly; I couldn't get loose even if I wanted to.

I hop out of my bed only to almost bump into Avery and Lestrange. The two were fast asleep in chairs by Tom's bed.

The sight had me smiling. Cute.

They really cared for him. Or they were exceedingly terrified of him. It could be both.

I was in pyjama shorts and a loose hoodie. I thanked whoever had changed me out of my blood filled robes. I don't think I'd have been able to contain myself from vomiting everywhere if I'd seen that scene again.

Walking towards Tom's bed, I stop and sit at the side of his bed. I was tired. The thought pops into my mind.

I was exhausted.

Leaning down, I watch the boy sleep, my brows furrowed. He looked peaceful. No troubles reached him while he was asleep and my heart warm at that. His face was still. No expressions of hate, no loathing disgust marred the beautiful features of his handsome face. The sight makes my heart sigh. I think of all the reasons why he felt the need to despise everyone. The utter writhing agony and pain that filled him.

It was the same agony that filled me.

We held the same darkness. We held the same pain.

We had the same past. We lived through strife and strain.

We depended on no one and yet everyone at the same time.

We were screaming for help, yet stuck in a silent mime.

We were wishing for light to brighten up our dark.

We were no bite and filled with bark.

Our pasts were seas of restless waves.

We were waiting for the day we'd dig our own graves.

Dig our own graves? Huh. That'd be fun.

Better than being stuck outside in the lying light of the sun.

That light is damnation; it's nothing but lies.

It sucks us in. A black hole filled with cries.

Why is it so dark in us when outside is bright?

No. I knew, deep down, we were not all right.

I stare at the boy in silent distress. I would get him out of that damn orphanage.

I lift my fingers slightly, trying to move the strand of hair that'd gotten on his eyelids.

My wrist was grabbed suddenly.

"Why are you in my space Dumbledore?" Tom growls, eyes still closed.

I grin and flick away his bangs with my other hand.

He lets me.

His eyes pop open, and he glances at me in curiosity. "Why are you on my side of the Infirmary?" He scowls. I sigh and shoot him a smile. There went peaceful, quiet Tom Riddle.

"Needed to make sure you were alright," I state. My words have him falling silent. He eyed me, making sure I had no other ill intentions.

"Are you alright?" I ask quietly, and he shrugs.

"We brought her back from the dead, you know." He states, making me nod.

"I realized."

"The spell usually doesn't cause so much exhaustion, especially if two people are casting it." He explains.

"Necromancy." I sigh, and he nods.

"How Dumbledore? We are thirteen, and I've never read any books or learned anything on the subject." He demands, making me shoot him a tired smile.

"Looks like you're pretty alright considering you've started your typical grilling." I chuckle. His eyes soften slightly then they harden instantly.

He eyes me with a disgusted look.

"Are-" He pauses and crinkles his nose in repulsion. This makes me raise a brow in amusement.

"Are you alright?" He spits the words like they were poison. I laugh at his expression.

"You know, asking someone if they are alright doesn't have to be such a painful process." I muse yawning. "But yes, I'm alright. Just tired." I answer his question, noticing how his still body became a bit less stiff than before.

I notice that my hand was still grasped loosely in his own. It rested on his chest, close to his heart.

I don't move it.

"I think the goblet gave us the powers," I tell, him yawning again, and I rest my head on his chest, exhausted.

"Goblet? The Hufflepuff Cup?" He demands and I nod absentmindedly. I knew he wasn't pushing me off because he needed information.

"The cup made me a parseltongue, too, if you remember."

"Ah, so that's what happened." He breathes, eyeing me in intrigue. "So it made us capable of Necromancy." He concludes.

"Did you get any other weird powers?" I ask him.

"No." He says and eyes me. "Did you?" He wonders, eyes staring up at the ceiling. His voice was eager.

Should I tell him? I don't think it would hurt. He hadn't shown any signs of being downright evil.... other than the fact that he was a complete asshole most of the time and his beliefs on blood purity were absurd. I was too tired to lie and could feel my eyes shutting.

"I'm a Seer." I whisper and then I fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~Third Pov~~~~~~~~

She's a what?

Tom stares at the girl fast asleep on him. His lip curls in distaste. He didn't blame the pathetic girl. She'd looked dead on her feet.

She'd been worried about him.

A Seer. A Parseltongue. A Necromancer.

Tom knew he was staring at one of the most powerful witches in the world.

He'd be invincible if he had her by his side.

He noticed he still had her hand in his.

He doesn't move it.

It was nice to have someone know his past and understand. Dumbledore didn't pity him to his immense surprise. She'd looked at him with respect.

He couldn't help but feel respect towards her as well.

He saw the scars that adjourned her body. There were even some on her face. He knew she'd had it much much worse than he did. He wondered what had happened to her parents.

He glanced at the scar that lay on the side of her face beside her left eyebrow. She usually hid it behind her long bangs.

There were immensely much prettier girls in the school. She was nothing much to look at.

She was highly intelligent, though. Exceedingly so. Her witty comebacks were intriguing, and the immense power and skill she had in magic were enough to let Tom know that this girl needed to be on his side. She needed to fight with him and not against him.

He needed to get the stupid girl to care for him.

He was succeeding.

Tom didn't care. He couldn't. He knew it was physically impossible for him to grow to care for someone.

He was an empty shell of a person.

But he had a soft spot.

He couldn't deny it.

The girl in front of him made him feel lighter whenever she grinned at him....whenever she looked at him like he was the only person that mattered.

Facing the darkness he had inside him was easy when she was arguing with him, or casting hexes at his friends.

He couldn't even feel the darkness when she held his hand.

He'd wanted to get rid of that bratty kid of Grindelwald's the second she had started following him around.

The thing was still healthy and alive because of the girl asleep on him right this instant.

Valentine Dumbledore was his soft spot.

"Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws?"

― Dejan Stojanovic