𝕬 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |

Chapter 43- Our Last Chance

"Are you ready for our seventh year? It's nearly here."

"Huh—what?" Frankie stammered, snapping out of a deep distraction and suddenly realizing someone was talking to her. She was forcibly pulled from her thoughts and discovered she was sitting on one of the couches in Gryffindor common room with Quin. It was suspiciously quiet for a Monday night in June. Normally, the place would've been swarming with 5th years studying for O.W.L's and 7th years lounging about with their free time when they were supposed to be studying for their N.E.W.T's. However, tonight it was empty. Before she got lost, they'd been busy finishing the last of their homework so they could start relaxing without consequence. He wasn't much of a study partner. Not like him. Quin gave her too much encouragement and often showered her with praise. It was starting to feel disingenuous at this point, but she wouldn't say anything about it. What was she supposed to tell him? Be less supportive. Call her an idiot when she was acting like one.

"Weren't you paying attention?" Quin asked, stopping the momentary doodling of a Phoenix on his piece of parchment.

"No, I wasn't. Sorry..." Frankie answered, truthfully. She had been gazing down at her locket for the hundredth time, mindlessly twirling it between her fingers. Her anger with Tom simmered to a low boil at this point, but that was probably only because they refused to be in each other's presence outside of classes. He did his best to feign disinterest in her, but sometimes she caught him staring at her with a longing look in his eyes. Talk to me! Say something—say anything and I'm yours.

Thankfully, Frankie had been spared this look over the past month. Tom had stopped appearing in classes. She didn't know the full story, but from Slughorn's account, Tom had been attempting to go to his lessons, but nearly every teacher sent him to the hospital wing after only sitting in the room for about a minute. His appearance was apparently so sickly, he could convince no one he was a perfectly healthy boy. Of course, Tom wasn't remotely well. He was running on empty. Pushing his body to the absolute limits. There were little to no restraints anymore. Although, Dumbledore was continuing to keep watch, it seemed to be highly ineffective in making sure he was healthy and staying out of trouble.

Even though Frankie had been avoiding him for many months now, it was not like she didn't care about him. On the contrary, she still cared deeply for Tom underneath it all. However, it'd take a lot more than a pitiful look and a sudden debilitating illness to mend what had been said between them.

"Keep this spacy attitude up and you're not going to make Head Girl." Quin teased, tussling her hair playfully.

"I am going to be the Head Girl. Just you wait." she stated, confidently. Frankie was more determined to earn the coveted title, nowadays. She didn't know why, but she felt like she wanted it. Perhaps, it was because Tom was convinced that the position was going to be hers and drilled it into her brain that she had already earned the coveted title long ago. Her mind flashed back to December before things had been said. "You'll be my Head Girl, won't you?". There was no doubt amongst the sixth years that Tom would be Head Boy next year. She wondered how she'd be able to handle it if they had to serve together. "I think I'm just tired. I'm going to go up to bed early...I'll see you tomorrow."

"Don't I get a goodnight kiss?" Quin asked, flirtatiously pulling her back onto the couch.

"Never!" she laughed, struggling to break free from his grip. Frankie broke loose and jetted up the stairs as fast as she could. Of course, all Quin had to do was step onto one of the steps before she came sliding back down to him. "C'mon lemme' go, ya' big brute."

"Look out below!" a voice called from the top. The two were unable to move in time before another body came swirling down. A mess of blonde hair that could only be Daphne sat on top of the hurtled mass of bodies.