My stomach back flipped as I spun to find Riddle standing there, motionless, expressionless. Stop it, I ordered my stomach angrily as it did another flip when I looked into his cold eyes. What do you think you are, Stomach? An acrobat?
"No," I said curtly, and turned away from him again. I tried to concentrate on the lists of battles in tiny print on the table of contents page but the words swam in and out of focus.
His hands reached out and snapped the book closed in my face. I felt the wind of it on the tip of my nose as I jerked back.
"I need it. It's important," he said slowly in a charming, velvety voice.
"Didn't you write everything Binns said down, Riddle, perfect student as you are?" I sneered.
"Flattered as I am by the way you seem to think of me, it may surprise you to learn that I don't bother with notes in history." He moved a little closer, looking deep into my eyes. I had to suppress a shiver. "Give me the book."
I got lost in them for a real second, deep and abyssal and mysterious as they were, then I mentally shook myself. "No," I snapped. "It may have escaped your notice, but I'm in your class too. We have the same essay!" It bothered me just how injured I actually sounded. It had never bothered me before that Riddle paid me no mind. I had thought I preferred it. But now my voice was betraying me.
His expressionless, reserved manner melted as he stared at me to reveal anger and annoyance. "Share then," he sneered, more of a command than a suggestion.
Before I could even fully register that Riddle had just shown me not one, but two more emotions than I thought him capable of, his lip curled at me in disgust (three now?) As my mind struggled to catch up, he took advantage of my shock by yanking the book out of my hands and he turned away with a dramatic billowing of his cloak. With a snarl, I sprung back into action and grabbed for his wrist. My wand was whipped out without thinking, leveled unwavering against his throat.
Riddle tossed me an incredulous look then he laughed! His shoulders shook uncontrollably while he suppressed unattractive snorts. I'm sure my jaw dropped. I couldn't believe the jerk was actually laughing at me while I threatened him! He obviously wasn't moved at all; he wasn't even mildly worried… I momentarily wondered if my reaction had been too hasty. Had I bit off more than I could chew? I bet Riddle could overwhelm me easily if he wanted. Just physically, he stood about a head taller than me and somehow I doubted very much that he was a scrawny kid beneath the fabric of his robes. Riddle was undoubtedly a powerful wizard, to boot. This much I knew for certain from our classes. The cherry on top though, was a legendarily short temper that was rumored to be a nasty fury akin to a whirlwind, the likes of which the world had never known before. Or so they said.
I panicked. It was only a book—there were hundreds more—and I could always work on my essay some other time.
But something (something stupid and irrational that must have wanted me dead) was telling me not to back down.
"Don't be brash, Kaitleen. I'm only taking it to a desk where we can work," he said softly, an indulgent smile pulling at his lips.
"You're mad if you think I'm working with you ever again," I hissed, sounding far braver than I felt.
"I must be insane then."
Riddle didn't wait for me to deliberate. He gently pried himself out of my grip and started off toward a table without a backwards glance. Angrily, I shoved my wand back in my pocket and hurried after him.
At a secluded table by a window filtering in weak sunlight, Riddle calmly set the book down and gracefully sat. I hesitated, glancing around us. We couldn't be seen from anywhere else in the library, not unless someone knew exactly where to go. I felt an inexplicable but overwhelming feeling of doom. Gulping, I watched him settle in, trying and failing to understand what was really staying my feet. Call it a feeling, I suppose. A bad feeling that constricted my throat and caused my heart to thump frantically in my chest.
He took out parchment and ink while I dithered there uncertainly, deliberating running. "Aren't you going to sit down?"
I sniffed with a sort of finality and sat on the other side of the round table, as far away from him as I could get.
"I think it would be tedious to share a book when you're all the way over there," he said snidely, not bothering to look up from writing his name in his elegant script.
Rolling my eyes at his undeniable logic, I got up and took the seat next to him reluctantly. Desperate to gain back some kind of ground in this losing battle I was fighting against Riddle, I said stubbornly, "A gentleman would have moved."
"What ever gave you the impression I was gentle?" he whispered, smirking ever so slightly.
Unexplained anger mixed with unwanted curiosity bubbled up inside me. It was a simpler time when I didn't have to speak to the prat next to me and I could loathe him without any real cause. Six years into our happy enmity when we finally have to exchange words, and he had to be witty? How dare he? The gall of him! Charm and intrigue would never work on me, no sir, I vowed silently, narrowing my eyes at him. Riddle would learn that right now. "What do you mean?"
Without warning, Riddle whipped around in his chair like a snake and caught my lips roughly with his own in a hard kiss I was completely unprepared for. My eyes widened but before I had any time to react to it, he retreated, murmuring, "You should start writing. Professor Binns' essay will be long." He dipped his quill in his ink and scrawled. It was like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Had anything out of the ordinary happened?
I nodded mutely and set to work. My thoughts were fuzzy, my mind reeling. I still couldn't quite convince myself the kiss had actually happened. It must have been my imagination. A very unwelcome part of my imagination, at that. I had spent so much time and effort today dreading Riddle, my imagination was fucking with me now. It had to be the only explanation.
We worked in total silence for a long time. The only sound was the scratching of our quills or the light flipping of pages. I kept checking my watch. Ten minutes. Twenty. A half hour. Forty-five. At five till, I reread my essay with a heavy sigh. Riddle was right about one thing: it was going to be long. Mine was now at two pieces of parchment and it wasn't even half done. I'd have to come back again, maybe even two more times in order to finish it—
"See? Not so difficult, is it?" Riddle asked, interrupting my thoughts as he rolled up his own essay carefully.
"It was actually excruciating," I corrected, doing the same. "Please don't tell me you're done. I'd have to jinx you."
"Is that so?" He raised his eyebrow. "Lucky for you, I'm not. Shall we continue this tomorrow morning during our next free period?"
I wrinkled my nose at him, sneering "Don't push your luck, Riddle."
"Don't be like that," he drawled. "You had to have as much fun as I did."
I wondered for a moment if he meant the essay or the kiss that I knew had only happened in my own head. Surely he didn't know about that. I didn't even want to know about that.
"Did you forget?" he breathed, watching me with mischief in his eyes.
Five emotions and counting, I noted. Man, he was on a roll today!
A second kiss cut off my thoughts and nothing I did could keep them from immediately scattering to the winds. All I had the capacity to grasp was the feel of his lips moving urgently against mine. My eyelids fluttered closed and my mouth answered of its own volition. I felt him smile and he pressed in harder, not allowing me even a moment to breathe. My lungs began to ache and my lips throbbed but I couldn't move. I couldn't break whatever spell he cast on me. It kept me riveted right where I was. Riddle could have killed me the way he effortlessly sapped the strength from my body, sucked the air from my lungs, stole my very will to live and breathe. He snagged my bottom lip cruelly in between his teeth and he pulled it away with a long measured movement. They scraped with agonizing slowness across the delicate skin leaving my lip feeling raw and tender and bruised from his violent kiss.
He smiled as we panted, dark eyes flicking over my flushed face greedily. "A friendly reminder," he murmured, and was gone.