WARNING! This fic may contain: blood and gore, feminism, blood supremity, and lots of LEMONS in the future.
It was a ghastly night.
But it was a night more perfect than any other night.
The wind blew whispers in the cold stillness of the air, wolves howled across the distance at the glorious eclipse, and the leaves rustled with secrets ever forbidden to speak. High above the tallest trees was where soon, the moon will be tainted red and the veil between all realms will be at its thinnest.
Hogwarts, however, did not share this enthusiasm as Marie Anne Nightingale and her secret coven did. Sure, they feasted to celebrate Halloween but Hogwarts feared- FEAR! The blessings bestowed under the blood moon. So for the remainder of the night, before the moon could display its utmost beauty, they put their students to rest.
A rest that would deny the students the opportunity to breach the limit of their magic. Perhaps they didn't know the blessings? Lie. They knew full well what it could bring yet they are afraid. For anything beyond the limits of moral magic, lies the path of the Black Arts.
So it goes without saying that Marie and her coven will not stand for this denial. For five years, they have waited explicitly for the day of this great phenomena; for Marie, she had been waiting for this her whole life.
It was rather easy for Marie to sneak her coven out of the castle perimeter. With a small, crystal ball that fit just the palm of her hand that showed a sea of stars swimming in a whirlpool blue, Marie led them through the portal and into safety- within the Forbidden Forest, fearless of being detected by their wary professors.
Marie led her group of witches, under heavy dark robes whilst they carried lit torches. In the distance, hidden by a blanket of fog, they would even appear as spectrals of Will-o-wisps. As they walked to their designated clearing as they sung in hums with their siren-like trained voice.
Upon their arrival, they circled the stone that sat peacefully at the center of the clearing whilst Marie stood above it. She kept her body straight, chin tilted up in pride, and spoke to her fellow witches with a voice like a true siren worthy of reverence.
"Sisters!" she bellowed across the clearing, "Tis time! Tonight is the night when the great détente of all the original superpowers will be broken, and the veil between all realms are at its thinnest. For years we lay quiet, in waiting, wishing, for this very day. The time on the eve of Samhain, when a glorious blood moon will shine down upon us, to bless us with our Dark Baptism."
"Oh ye! Oh ye!" her fellow witches chanted.
"Tis time! For the day we claim our birthright! Tis time we become true witches! To receive our baptism just as our foremothers had done! Tis time we become true daughters! And bring back what once lost! AS THE ROSES OF SALEM!"
"OH YE! OH YE!"
They all cheered with pure excitement and glee as they dropped their torches to the cold, forest grass. One by one they pulled off their hoods from their heads, then their robes from their bodies, and all their clothes they stripped down to only their knickers.
Marie, herself, couldn't be any more proud of her soon-to-be true sisters. Over the years all her subtle efforts had been paid off. So much so that she was even able to coax the unswayable Hufflepuffs, wise Ravenclaws, and a stubborn yet fierce Gryffindor (even though she was only able to get a hold of one, she hoped that it would be rectified soon).
After she stripped herself bare for all others to see, Marie's heterochromia eyes of an inner ring of gold and outer ring of dazzling blue, twinkled at the sight of her most trusted friend and partner. The black cat came out from her own shadow. As if the darkness stretched and took form into a solid, living being. Her beloved familiar, Saberhagen, sung a purr by her feet, as pleased as he was just as she.
Even as they stood bare for each other's eyes, Marie and her coven did not once shiver under the cool night. High above them the clouds started to part, and the glorious, full blood moon will soon shine upon them.
"Tonight, my sisters," Marie whispered in reverence as she could barely hold herself with bated breaths for what what's to come, "We become true witches; as the new Roses of Salem."
At her feet, Saberhagen produced a thick, old grimoire. The Great Compendium of Unseen Darkest of Arts that had been passed down from every chosen, High Witch since the beginning of their foremothers' coven; born at the same time as the dark ages. She asked the book permission with a drop of her blood she cut using her own canine, and the book popped its enchanted restrictions open as a show of acknowledgement to her as the chosen High Witch.
Her fellow witches stared in awe and wonderment as they awaited, and as Marie finally settled on the page of their baptism, she began to sing the incantation with a clear, loud, and hypnotic voice just as soon as the moon came into full view.
"Ignis, divine, eleison… Os iusti meditabitur sapientiam…" as she sang, the other witches began to hum according to her tune, "In quo vera ejus dici virtus… et facti sunt omnes fructus eve… quod autem nostrum data sunt primogenita."
For three times, Marie sung the incantation- an incantation that demanded they receive the gifts promised to them as birthright, and hold the virtue and wisdom of their foremothers. Especially those who had had fallen in false prejudice and unjust during the tragic purging of the Salem Witch Trials.
As she finished the incantation for the third time, the blood moon from up above the starless sky glowed ever more with its red hue. Its scarlet rays touched the earth, and granted the gifts of the witches laid bare before it.
They fell on their backs as their limbs twisted and muscles spasm in pain. Yet only the most silent screams filtered the air as they choked and gasped for air. It felt like a torrent of pain and pleasure at the same time as invisible fire burned their hearts and the coldest of waters washed them to purity. Their nails clawed at the earth and over their pale skins, until finally, they moaned and squirmed in an almost pleasurable delight as the power flowed right through their veins. Only the moon and the familiar became witnesses to the baptismal of fire and ice of the thirteen witches.
When it was over, the moon's scarlet rays left their persons and the felt its divine touch slowly seep away. The euphoria slowly faded from their senses as the thirteen witches lied over in heaps over their clothes on the forest floor. All of which panted and moaned as they came from their high of receiving the black magic.
Marie was the first to recover, and she sat atop the stone with Saberhagen purring in delight of their successful baptism. One by one her fellow roses roused and they all gasped and squealed in glee as they pointed at each other's backs. Marie swell with pride at the sight. A singular rose curled around the body of a black cat; its petals akin to being aflame, were inked onto the backs of the young witches squarely between their shoulder blades below the nape of their necks. Under the glow of the blood moon, they appeared so lifelike as if the petals were actually burning.
"Oh Marie, your mark!" squealed Katherine Ivypool as she pointed at her back.
Marie pulled out her wand from the pile of clothes beside her. She tucked her long, black hair over one shoulder and with a flick of her wand, a mirror-like image formed in front of her showing her back. Her heart fluttered in absolute glee as she stared at her own mark.
It was similar to the others but very different as well. Whilst her fellow sisters have a mark no bigger than the length of their middle finger, hers was massive. So massive that it covered the entire expanse of her back. The stem of the rose made a line straight down her back, ending just above her buttocks. The rose covering her entire upper back was more on fire, along with its thorns and leaves. At the heart of the flower was the face of a cat.
Needless to say she was very pleased. Her mark only further proved that she was the rightful, chosen High Witch of the reformed coven.
Marie stood and peered at the newly baptized roses. A wide smile etched on her face as she addressed them. The fact that they were still bare down to their knickers did not bother them the least.
"My sisters! My fellow roses! Finally, we have received the gift from our foremothers! We have officially become True Witches and members of the Roses of Salem!" she shouted and all of them chanted in praise, "So tonight we sing! We dance! We celebrate our rebirth!"
Unbeknownst to the denizens of Hogwarts, thirteen witches lit a pyre at a secluded clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Like the mythical nymphs and faeries of ancient forest, they all sung, danced, and feasted in firewhisky and food around the pyre lit with green fire under that unholy night.
"Happy birthday Marie Anne!" the girls cheered and laughed as Marie blew out the candles celebrating her sixteenth birthday.
Tom Riddle woke with a start on that following morning. He dreamt about a beautiful woman smiling and giggling at him with devilish delight; dancing and singing a siren's song as she twirled around a pyre. Deep down he had a great feeling that he knew the woman of midnight hair and multi-colored eyes.
In his dream, she crawled up to him with the full gracefulness of a cat and straddled his legs. She brought her lips to him ever so closely but never touching, as she nibbled on his ear and said, "My one warlock…"
From there he jolted from his bed and found the sun glaring at him through the slits of the drapes of his bed. He made sure to take time under the cold shower to bring down the physiologic nuisance of his member. It was the first of a long while since he experienced a morning wood.
"Morning Riddle," Lestrange greeted him just as he was about to exit through the portrait.
"Good morning, Lestrange," Tom greeted back with a stoic face and a small nod in acknowledgement.
With his back straight and a gait befitting his title as prefect, and perfect, role model student, Tom traversed the halls on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast. At the dorm earlier, his roommates had already gone and went ahead. They all knew that he valued his comfortable, peaceful sleep very much- something that he was denied of whilst in the orphanage. However he does not tolerate tardiness either. His virtue of punctuality was only one of the few reasons that made his record posh and perfectly clean. Fortunately, his internal clock never fails and hopefully, never will, even against such provocative dreams of a young woman seducing him in his sleep.
They arrived at the Great Hall and the moment Tom stepped in, his brows furrowed in confusion and distaste. All students, yes, all of them, especially the male population, had their sights focused on one portion of the room. Most had long forgotten about the food on their plates while some still tried to eat absentmindedly.
He followed their gaze as he and Lestrange approached their group. Tom's brows only deepened even more when his own Knights had fallen under the spell of this morning's stupor.
"Rosier," Lestrange tried to call, just as confused as Tom. When the brunette didn't so much as look their way, Tom signaled Lestrange and he physically grabbed his attention, "Rosier!"
"What?!" the brunette barked before a flash of fear crossed over his eyes when he saw Tom's scowl. He corrected himself and greeted, "Morning Riddle, Lestrange."
"Rosier, what is going on?" Tom asked without pretense or a greeting back at Rosier.
The brunette stuttered pathetically, "W-Well, it's not that something bad ha-happened… per say…"
"Per say?" Tom raised a brow at the worthless answer and his impatience immediately soared.
"S-Sorry! I just can't explain- just- just look!" he averted his gaze and pointed directly at one end of the Slytherin table.
"Whoa."
He heard Lestrange beside him as they looked on to the group of girls giggling and merrily eating their breakfast. Like a lost traveler that stumbled upon a nymph bathing in a river, they stared after in wonder at the girls whose laughter rang in their ears as if they were the only music that ever existed.
Tom however, had his eyes fixated on the one he knew who led them all. What was her name again? Oh yes. Her name was Marie Anne Nighingale. Admittedly, upon her transfer to the school upon their fourth year, the girl had always interested him in some unknown, twisted way. Not just because she practically rebuked Dumbledore last year for trying to convince her to leave her precious black cat aside for her sorting (which immediately gained her some brownie points from him). Despite himself, Tom Riddle knew how to appreciate beauty and Marie Anne was certainly a work of art.
As if she felt his gaze, Marie turned her head ever so slightly to meet his attention. Her eyes of gold and blue rings met his own dark brown pools and he felt like a bird who lost its wings and was to falling in a never-ending sky.
"Have they always been like this?" Lestrange spoke almost dreamily and that effectively woke him from his trance.
Across them, Mulciber shrugged his shoulders as he too, stared at the beautiful witches, "Same question, mate. One moment we were just eating, minding our own business, and suddenly, they walk in and everything just… just… I don't know, mate, today they're just… blooming."
Nods of agreement responded to him and not just only by their group but everyone within hearing range as well.
Tom dared another glance at the raven-haired girl and her friends. He then remembered how she had an uncanny ability regarding potions, charms, care of magical creatures, and divination. The only aspect she needed extra effort on was in Arithmancy. He remembered her saying how she just didn't understand the relation of numbers and magic. As for the matters regarding her abilities, Marie was a well-rounded witch who knew more than enough advanced spells to make her more advanced than her peers. Though he wasn't sure of her skills as a dueler as she did not participate in the Duelling Club last year.
There was even one time, on the very first day of Defense Against the Dark Arts, she practically argued with the professor regarding the syllabus. Saying that, "What's the point of defending against the dark arts when one doesn't even know what the dark arts are?" To which of course, he internally agreed. But he was not one to risk his perfect record just to side with a new student. Even though he made the same argument inside. In the end she was forced to take the classes anyhow, begrudgingly.
As far as he knew, Marie Anne was a smart and capable witch who obtains outstanding grades in every subject in complete silence. They even fought each other to a round of wizard's chess and ended up in a stalemate.
So why doesn't he associate with her again?
He watched as another group of girls, all had the same kind of grandiose flare in them, approach their table and converse with her in a casual manner.
It almost made Tom growl audibly.
Ah yes, he remembered. Why should he associate with someone who willingly interacts with other houses? And not just any houses but Gryffindor of all things! Worse of all, she- Marie Anne Nightingale- a pureblood witch, would dare to make acquaintances with half-bloods and mudbloods!
How absolutely revolting.
He never understood why someone such as her would become like that. For a time she had been a topic of controversy and bullying from their own house. However such qualms did not last long because of her friendship with Rebecca Smith (a Hufflepuff, surprisingly), Katherine Ivypool, Vanessa McGregor, Lyra Black and her younger brother from second year- Hydrus Black. Furthermore, those who even attempted to ostracize her were met with gruesome fates. Total humiliation, no matter what the blood status.
What a shame indeed.
Nonetheless, Tom was not so desperate. If Marie Anne would want to waste her time and dignity and have people call her a blood traitor behind her back then so be it.
When Marie Anne stood up and her friends followed, everyone's eyes followed them as they exited the Great Hall with her black cat comfortably lounging on her shoulders. Through the corner of his eye, Tom could've sworn that she sent him a secretive wink and once they turned the corner, it's as if the spell had been broken and the hall erupted once more in collective noises.
Tom sneered at his own group when they finally met his eyes. He'll have to think of a way to punish them for acting so incompetent. Not that he'll admit that he too, had been entranced by one Nightingale.
.
Once it was time for Potions, Tom sat himself at his usual spot in front of the class and nearest to the shelves rowed with ingredients. Professor Slughorn has yet to group them into pairs and he had announced that it will all depends on their performance on this refresher exercise.
"Now, who can tell me the key ingredient to making an effective Sleeping Draught?" Professor Slughorn asked as he gazed expectantly at his students.
Tom waited for a moment before he raised his hand to answer. Which wasn't really a surprise to everyone.
"Yes Tom?" the jolly professor smiled proudly and Tom found his fingers twitching at the mention of his filthy muggle name.
"Sir, the key to making a Sleeping Draught is Valerian Sprig," he answered, sitting up straight like the perfect student he was, "Which, according to the brewing instructions, four Valerian Sprigs should be added during the twelfth step. This serves as a countermeasure for all the side effects of the other ingredients and further enhances their effectivity."
"Marvelous, Tom! Well done," Professor Slughorn praised with a proud grin on his face, "Ten points to Slytherin!"
Though he hated his name being called, Tom always felt smug whenever someone stroke his ego. Also, trust Professor Slughorn to give such high points for just a refresher question.
"Now- yes, Ms. Nightingale. Is something the matter?" the professor asked as he called to the raven-haired girl raising her at the middle of the class.
"Yes sir. I mean no offence but I would like to argue with Riddle's answer regarding your question. I believe that there is a much better answer for that."
Upon hearing those words, Tom's grip on his quill tightened that if he wasn't careful, could've snapped it in two. He shot his head around to the strangely beautiful witch just like everyone did. Their classmates' eyes were wide with controversy and a hint of fear for her as one thing ran in their minds.
Did she just actually dare to question the Tom Riddle?!
If there's another thing Tom hated rather than disloyalty and incompetence, it's questioning his words. Even if it's just something about an ingredient for making a bloody Sleeping Draught.
"Oh," Professor Slughorn blinked a couple of times from his stupor. His mouth opened a bit in disbelief as well, "Very well then, my dear. What might your answer be?"
"First of, sir, would you please clarify the purpose of this Sleeping Draught?" Marie started in casual confidence. Her siren-like voice has always been hypnotizing but rarely heard in class. She doesn't usually participate in discussions… until now. Her voice was mostly utilized with the choir as she was the best soprano the school ever had (according to the ever-enthusiastic Professor Beery). She had also performed in every ball the school held since she attended. She also sang a song before the Halloween feast on her own birthday yesterday, "As we all know that a true Sleeping Draught works in two ways, potency, and duration."
"Very well, let's say that the wizard would like to make a potion that would make their target sleep for, let's say, an entire day?"
"Then the best ingredient to use, instead of the Valerian Sprigs, are the dried leaves of a Cinderbark tree," she answered in a heartbeat, "Perhaps one whole leaf will do? If the intention is only for a day, of course."
"Okay," Professor Slughorn nodded, expression morphed into content of her answer, "What if the wizard would like it to be very potent?"
"Then the honey made from only firestars will be the best thing to use. Not only will it triple the sedating effect with the other ingredients, it will also provide a potent yet non-toxic anesthetic effect which will make it so that no matter what you do, there is no way to wake up the vict- target, unless they are at the brink of death."
Tom couldn't help but frown at what she said. Never in all the textbooks he read did it mention anything about cinderbarks and firestars! And that's saying something because by the end of this year, all that's left in the library for him to read are the ones in the restricted section.
"That is all correct," the professor nodded in agreement before it twisted in a challenging way. It was an expression quite rare from the constant jolly Head of Slytherin house, "Then, tell me, my dear, if dried Cinderbark tree leaves and firestar honey are the best ingredients to make a very effective Sleeping Draught, why do the books say to use Valerian Sprigs instead?"
There was not a hint of hesitation when she answered. Almost as if she was expecting him to ask that question, "Because, professor, though Cinderbark leaves will be very effective, there is no guarantee how long the effectivity of the potion it will be. Since even half a single dried leaf could make the target sleep for half a day or up to a full week. It is too risky because of this uncertainty but it does prove to be effective for a long lasting potion.
"As for the firestar honey, however, though they are proven to be the ingredient to make the most potent Sleeping Draught, that not even when the person is stabbed should they wake up from their slumber, firestar honey is a very, very limited resource. Not only do firestar flowers bloom at the steepest cliffs because of their required sunlight, the bees that make the honey are of the most hostile species to that point that the only way to harvest their honey is by destroying the entire nest itself. Which isn't a very wise idea, considering that Eastern Silverback Bees take around fifty or so years to create a single colony.
"The reason Valerian Sprigs are taught in the textbooks however, is that Valerian Sprigs are an effective intermediary to bring about the essence of these contrasting qualities. They are a quite common resource which anyone could buy a single jar for about fifty sickles, however when in terms of effectivity, the difference between Valerian Sprigs and dried Cinderbark leaves and firestar honey is simply… astronomical."
The moment of silence seemed to have stretched on forever. The look on their classmates' faces were a mixture of admiration and awe. Even Tom felt his eyes widen a fraction at her answer. It wasn't until Slughorn broke the silence did the captivating, once again, casted by her, had been broken.
"Perfect," the professor breathed with a grin so wide it would've split his face, "Most brilliant, simply stupendous! Not only did Ms. Nightingale share to the class this piece of knowledge not written in any educational textbook, she had also said it with such perfect accuracy I'm afraid she'll have to make a copyright about it! Excellent, Ms. Nightingale, thirty points to Slytherin!"
"Thank you, professor," Marie smiled charmingly it was almost achingly familiar to Tom.
The whole class gasped at the absurd amount of points and Tom would've felt proud and smug for the added house points, except he wasn't the one who contributed it. If it wasn't for Nott, who sat beside him, pointed out that he gripped his quill so hard it finally snapped in two.
What he hated also, was someone stealing his spotlight.
Later on, Slughorn tasked them to create a Sleeping Draught. This was of course, to serve as a preparation for them to brew a Draught of Living Death for the next meeting, and also to determine their designated partners.
Tom doesn't believe in god, not even on the devil, but at the end of the class he wondered, if there was a higher being out there making fun of him for making him partners with one Marie Anne Nightingale.
When nightfall came and everyone had headed back to their respective Common Rooms, the prefects began their nightly patrols around the school's halls. Riddle, having already memorized his patrol routes, went about his responsibility dutifully. All the while he reviewed the course of the other prefects to help make a map of his own for him and his knights to enter the Room of Requirement without being detected.
As soon as he finished patrolling the hall to the first year classrooms, Riddle was on his way to meet with his fellow prefect in front of the Great Hall where they would make the last patrol route that would eventually lead them back to the dungeons.
Speaking of his fellow prefect, as if the idea was a spell, before he could round the corner Tom heard a woman humming a song. The siren-like voice was too familiar to not recognize even though he sparsely interacted with her last year. True enough, when he rounded the corner, Marie Anne Nightingale was standing there in front of the large double doors into the Great Hall, waiting for him.
"You will scare the miscreants off before you could even have the chance," Tom said once he neared her, his arms crossed over his chest, "I could hear you loud and clear from the end of the hall."
Marie turned to him and slowly blinked her multi-colored eyes. Her long lashes kissed her cheeks as she smiled at him politely, "Oh, I wouldn't worry. There's no one else running out late. Or else Saberhagen would've reacted."
She scratched the black cat perched over her shoulder and the feline nuzzled its furry head against her cheek with a purr.
"I myself have already caught two, mischievous, Gryffindor boys lurking around my route. I have sanctioned them a generous week's worth of detention, of course. What about you?"
Though the idea of Gryffindors getting into trouble brought a bit of elation to him, Tom kept his face schooled as he indicated towards the opposite hall.
"None for me tonight. Come."
Just as with their previous patrols together, Marie Anne had been nothing but silent as she kept wary of her surroundings for any stragglers coming about. Since the start of the term, or even since he first met her, if he were to describe the raven walking beside him, it would be Silent.
Marie Anne was no trouble-maker nor was she just another shadow in the Slytherin Common Room either. She kept to herself and spent most times with her friends, talking and laughing of what he could only assume as something only girls would find interesting about. Oftentimes he would catch her reading in her lonesome and silence in the library. She doesn't participate, answer questions, or even more- correct the answer of others in all the other classes. But she did not fail in her academics however. Which was why she had been chosen as prefect alongside him.
However, it appears that something had changed.
"You can always speak your mind, Riddle. I may or may not answer you depending on your question though," Marie broke the silence as she stopped and looked at him. An amused glint reflected over her multicolored eyes.
Tom's eyes narrowed at her but said anyway, "How did you know about the Cinderbark leaves and firestar honey?"
He needed to know.
Marie however, just shrugged her shoulders casually and said, "As Professor Slughorn said, those aren't found in any educational texts. I learned them whilst I was with Ivypool during the summer break."
The way she said was so casual that anyone would've mistaken it as the truth. However, Tom wasn't just anyone, and he could clearly recognize the lie between her teeth as it was the same method he used. However he knew he can't be too complacent with his deductions.
"I see," he answered instead as they continued to walk back to the common room.
"But of course, you don't have to force yourself. I know you don't believe me."
At that, it was Tom's turn to stop. He slowly turned his gaze around to witness her full-blown smug and amused expression. An expression he never once saw from the quiet and passive Nightingale. She took a daring step ahead of him, their height differences were almost laughable for she could be no taller than his chin. However the gaze she bravely held against him was no laughing matter and he found himself twitching in anxiety for the dread of being touched.
If she so ever put a finger on him he'll-
"No need to hide yourself from me, Riddle," she whispered her siren voice almost like the ghostly whispers in a haunted night, "I could see you. Your goody-two-shoes mask does not hold sway over my eyes. I only ever needed one look at you. One fleeting glimpse and I would know what you really are. You may think you have charmed most of the people here in this school but that's where you're wrong. Because not even on the first day I came to this school was I ever swayed by you. I could see right through you."
At her confession, Tom found his mask slipping from his face. His fists balled in so tightly that his knuckles turned white over his pale skin. He at least managed to control the sneer threatening to form on his lips because no, whether she was just bluffing or not, he will not give her the satisfaction of confirming or denying what she just said.
But bloody hell his fingers were twitching irritably to draw out his wand. He may have held his sneer, but his eyes portrayed more than enough as they became hardened steels and under the right cast of the torchlight nearby, his dark pools would glint an ominous red.
What he didn't expect however, was Marie Anne's eyes two twinkle- twinkle! Right back at him as if she wasn't afraid at all. Either she was really brave or really oblivious to his rising ire at that moment, he wasn't quite sure.
Before he could even stop her, her hand grasped at his tie and took it out from his grey knitted V-neck jumper. He could've slapped her arm away, really he could've, but just like how he had fallen prey under her spell earlier this morning, he found himself lost in her heterochromia eyes.
"But you know, I can be a very generous person, Riddle," she giggled a bit. Her voice fell low into an almost inaudible whisper as her cool breath tickled his jaw. The smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips was uncanny, almost devilish. Her fingers played idly with his tie like a cat with a string, "I could teach you more than just undocumented, rare, potion ingredients. I could teach you more about magical artefacts no professor can tell you, and spells you won't find in any of the books in the restricted section. I could even teach you… show you… the unseen darkest of arts…"
Her hands abandoned his tie and unabashedly caressed his chest and shoulders as if she was straightening the creases over them. Tom Riddle didn't like to be touched. But he still didn't stop her. Partly because he was now more curious than enraged of what she's doing and what she's about to do. He even heard purring and he was very sure it didn't come from the cat over her shoulders.
"But I know that you're the type of man who doesn't like getting his treats for free, so never mind what I said."
Just as soon as it began, it stopped- she stopped, and his dark brown pools followed her way as she gave the password to their common room. Marie Anne took one last glimpse over him and with a knowing smile, she wiggled her fingers at him.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Riddle. Toodle-oo!" she finished with a giggle and a wink.
Tom didn't even realized that his back was up against a wall until he pulled himself off of it. Anger instantly coursed through his veins as he begrudgingly inserted his tie inside his jumper back in place. With no one around, Tom let the mask slip freely from his face and his scowl was revealed for only the silent night to see.
His fingers were just begging him to withdraw his wand from its holster but even then what would be the point? Unless a bug happened to cross his way, Tom wouldn't be able to find an outlet for his anger in the form of his favorite Cruciatus Curse.
How dare she touch him!
How dare she say those things to him!
How dare she act as if she knew him! As if she knew him- hell no one knows him!
As his temper screamed and raged, his rational mind came to intercept and asked the ultimate question of his thoughts.
What happened? Or more specifically, what changed?
Something happened, he was definitely sure of it. And it just wasn't Marie Anne but all her other friends too. Pureblood, half, and mudblood alike. He wasn't sure what but now that it caught his attention, he'd want to know. He'd definitely want to know. He'll have to question later why Marie Anne affected him the most later on because he was just slapped in the face with a secret. A secret he- Tom Marvolo Riddle- knew nothing about! For that reason alone, he didn't like it. He wouldn't have been curious if it was a personal secret, yet this one was more than just a personal secret and he's more than determined to find out what it was.
From that night forth, the silent war between Marie Anne Nightingale and Tom Marvolo Riddle began.
An idea for a fanfic that I needed to get out from my head.
Will continue depending on your responses.
Ciao~!