Review reply time! I must admit, I was expecting a few more reviews, but hey, can't complain! You guys support me enough with all your reads. Anyhow, here we go:
Love . Fiction . 2017 - Thanks!
Picture perfect.
Tom had timed the entire evening to ensure that his plan would flow perfectly - he arrived at the doors of the Hall with ten minutes to spare, greeting the men and the ladies, and then stopping in front of the lady of the moment. To say that she looked pretty would be an understatement.
Kate stood out amongst all the other girls, and not because of his internal bias - the sheer white sleeveless gown gave off a weak halo, and her hair tied in an elegant braid gave the impression of a mountain veela. While they were in their human form, that is.
The peculiar look on her face informed him that he had been staring at her for far too long, and he offered an arm in appropriate fashion, the two positioning themselves at the beginning of the lineup.
With Dippet's speech done, the two commenced the dance, Tom sweeping her across the winter wonderland that was the Great Hall. He informed her of his opinions about her, and the girl fought to keep down a blush. A few more, and I assure your face will be on fire, Summers. He casually looked around the hall, the Durmstrang Head Boy sharing a look before he danced away with the Beauxbaton Head Girl - good man. As for their Hogwarts friends, Abraxas had been giving her a rather improper look - eyes greedily roving over the lady, and Tom made a mental note to keep the Malfoy away from this business.
Walburga smiled genially as she danced with him, but he could feel the annoyance bubbling in her brain like a boiling cauldron. "What an evening, isn't it?" He returned her sentiment with a charming smile, twirling the woman around to drive his point home.
"And you are but a beautiful addition to this night." Unlike most women, such comments never reduced Walburga Black to titters - she knew how to hold her poise. But talented as she was, a woman like Walburga wasn't the ideal partner for his mission. For one, she held societal norms at a level of importance he did not - and she was not a woman who would disregard them under any circumstances. The Blacks are a proud and obstinate family after all, with their heads buried so deep in heirlooms and coffers that money and society take the form of power. And she, of all people, would not understand the power of a teacher - something that Dumbledore, much to his eternal woe, rightfully understood.
"Katherine is quite an engaging creature, isn't she?"
"An exquisite person, no doubt." And she was - her family history, coupled with the girl's blatant disregard of society and unconventional thought process (which he'd had the luxury to look in, thank Merlin for that injury) made her different than almost any girl he'd ever met. Minerva McGonagall might be a fair match, but the girl has too many morals to uphold to attain glory.
"You seem to have a soft spot for her, Tom."
"Intelligent company is scarce, Walburga, and in quality like hers even sparser - you should make an effort to better acquaint yourself with her."
"I have had seven years to know her, thank you very much, but if you say, I shall try." Another one of Walburga's shortcomings - her sycophancy in regards to him. She never argued with him for long, never disagreed sharply, which could lead to questioning thoughts he may never learn, and that is a dangerous trait for followers to possess. Which is why I mastered Legilimency.
They swapped partners again, and the Head Girl was back in his arms, looking every inch as radiant as he left her. "Enjoying yourself?"
"Well, this is quite fun, but I cannot imagine myself doing this on a regular basis." He laughed lightly, placing a hand on her back - of course she couldn't; people like them were meant to be on the forefront of change.
"You are not a lady who belongs solely in ballrooms - they could never contain you in one of those." She seems to find the statement intriguing, eyebrow raised, and her arm has now shifted to a more comfortable position around his neck than the stiff presence on his shoulder.
"This doesn't feel cage-like." Tom leans down to her ear, and a barely perceptible shiver passes through her as his hand shifts to her neck.
"Well, see yourself doing this thrice a week." After contemplation and an evidently distasteful conclusion, she turns to look up at him, impressed.
"You are a fair judge of character."
"You know, it feels terribly nice to not be the reason why everyone envies me right now." For some reason, his statement takes her by surprise - and not with the intent of being coquettish. If her face is any indication, she is genuinely surprised to consider that she is the more desirable person in the same room as him. "I bet you ten Galleons any boy in this hall would be more than willing to trade places with me." And of course, those hounds would be.
"I'm afraid I'll be a terrible bore," she quips. "I'll drive any of them away with the chatter of spells and homework and NEWTS." Such a babe in the woods. This woman truly has no idea of the power of sex appeal or does not see it as a defining factor in her personality. He favours the latter.
"I don't mean to be sexist, Kate, but no amount of boring drivel will be able to keep a man away from someone as divine as the dress she is clad in." It is the blatant truth - all men (with his exclusion) would willingly to listen to her quote Proust if she looked like this at that time.
This time Kate fails, and her face colours the shade of a rose, inching towards tomato red. "I hope people have told you that you are a terrible flirt." He pulls her hand towards him, holding it to his face - now her face is tomato red, and she tries to not look away.
"What will I have to do to get the next few dances from you?"
"Well, I have a favour to ask, which we will discuss over the next dance." She takes his leave, and while he begins to dance with Walburga, she stands by the sides, soon approached by Alden Greengrass. Which means that I may have to move a little faster than anticipated.
They talk for a while before entering the floor again, and he keeps a close watch on Greengrass' thoughts, which are now heading in the direction he expected. Ten minutes or so have passed, and he can see her grow uncomfortable.
"The Rosiers have a New Year's Ball planned -"
"I beg your pardon, Walburga, but I'll have to take your leave." He leaves an irate Black behind, heading over to Kate, who looks more than relieved to see him. Alden, thankfully for her and a little disappointingly for him, misses the relief on her face.
"Just tell Slughorn you will change your career track to the Ministry's. There is a rather lucrative reward in store for us. You see, I require the assistance of a gifted student to aid me in a rather difficult potion I'm brewing. And since it is out of curriculum, the process must go undetected." That interests him greatly, and of course he will be more than willing to assist her in this.
"Consider the task done." He picks up a glass of firewhisky from the Teachers' Table (who have thankfully not noticed his presence or charitably ignored it) and heads for the Potions Master, a warm smile on his face.
"Wonderful night, isn't it?" Thrusting the glass in his hand with a genial shove, he makes a show of looking back at Kate before beginning. "Sir, I have thought long and hard about it, and I would say that like always, your words haven't failed me. The Ministry would be the ideal place to use and expand upon my talents and skills."
"That Summers girl got around to you, didn't she?" The man nudged him, giving a conspiratorial wink, and he gave that token bashful smile of a boy being caught.
"Kate certainly did have quite the hand in this. She talks sense into me more often that I like to admit."
"Perhaps the potion had been brewed improperly that day." Tom forced another token bashful look on his face, thinking back to the day he'd smelt that cauldron full of Amortentia.
When he had smelt nothing.
At first, he felt he had mucked up (or more likely, Slughorn had), but time and again he tested it by sticking his nose into various correctly brewed cauldrons, and each time nothing came back to him.
"I'd like to speak to the victorious lady, if you may allow, my boy."
"Certainly, sir." And he walked back to her, informing that the task was a success. "He would like to speak to you." There was a drunken smile on the man's face as the two approached him.
"Well done, Miss Summers. If I had known that the task would come so easy to you, I would have set a lesser prize for you to win."
"Surely you wouldn't renege on your words, Professor?" The professor gave an even more drunk smile, shaking his head repeatedly.
"Absolutely not, my dear." This crossed off his list, he proceeded to the final task of the night.
Tom takes her uninjured hand and pulls her out into the snowy quadrangle, which is mercifully empty.
"I supposed this made for a better ambience," he says, hands placed on the small of her back as they move to the music coming from the hall. "After all, discussions such as this should never be held in the glare of the public." Of course not - he wants her unfiltered reaction.
"Such as what, Tom?" There is no makeup on her face - it is as clear as the sky above and soft as the snow settling in his hair.
"Would you not let me kiss you, Kate?" And do his words stun her. He can hear her breath, feel the hesitation off of her. "You are intelligent and brave, imperfect in most perfect of ways. Please, my dear - will you not let me kiss you?"
It makes him giddy, seeing the power his words have on her - the power he has on her. A few seconds later, she gives a jerky nod and he leans in, letting soft, untainted lips touch his. At first, she doesn't respond, but then he feels her mouth move against his, and Tom Riddle is drunk on nothing.
There are no narcotics and alcohol involved, no potions coated slyly on lip glosses, but he is drunk; his hand grips her chin, the other losing itself in her hair, and then she pulls him closer with her arms snaking around his neck, and his self-control rapidly slips out of his fingers like fine sand.
He removes his hand from her hair and grips her waist - there is no distance to close any more, really, but all that hunger and desire has to be let out somehow, and while there is no neediness from the other end, he is ready to devour her right there. Lightheadedness forces him to pull away, but he takes in her flushed face and swollen lips, the rapidly blinking eyes trained on him as he kisses every inch of her face that he can. Mine.
"What are you so afraid of?" He keeps his voice quiet and calm, leaning as close as he can without kissing her again. "Tell me." And before he can draw up a list of possible replies, Kate Summers takes off for the stairs like Cinderella. Don't follow - not yet.
When he walks back into the Hall, Erik has a conspicuous grin on his face, and Greengrass looks like someone shattered his heart and set fire to the fragments. Walburga and Abraxas are nowhere to be seen, thank Merlin - he doesn't need the additional commentary. So for the next one hour, he eats little and talks a lot and drinks nothing - he feels drunk and drugged as he is already, head mildly hazy from the past events.
After that, he's off for the seventh floor - the dormitory isn't a place she would go, and the library was chained shut. Tom checks the Room of Requirement first, and upon finding no one, goes to his final destination.
"Gingerbread." Helga Hufflepuff beams broadly, the door swinging open. She's sitting there with her feet on the sofa, eyes darting across a worn copy of Macbeth. The book is tossed aside and Kate impatiently rubs a hand across her face, looking troubled but not scared. Good.
He sits at a respectable distance, giving no indication to make any movement in her direction. "I'm sorry if I did anything to cause you any form of hurt." She lets out a huff, rubbing her hands across bright red arms, so he takes off his coat and puts it around her.
"No - I'm being ridiculous over a trifle."
"I fully understand if you harbour no such affections towards me - people make mistakes in the heat of the moment, and if you consider this as such, I will put it behind myself and ignore it as an emotion-fueled folly of mine." Because he is nothing if not considerate of the lady's feelings.
"And if I say that I was fully willing to do what I did, yet I am scared of my actions?" Her voice is low and slightly shaky, but she means what she says. He inches closer, encasing her bandaged hand in both of his, pressing a slow kiss on her exposed fingers.
"Then maybe I can ease your fear." She leans in, letting him kiss her again and now, he doesn't hold himself back.
They back up into the sofa as her fingers grip his hair and his hands grip her face, and she bites down on his lower lip, eliciting a growl. He can feel her fingers leave bruises on his clavicle and neck, and he moves a hand down to her shoulder, the sheer fabric smoothly slipping off. Her gasps mingle in his growls as she seats herself on the arm of the piece of furniture. God help me if this woman doesn't stop here because I certainly will not.
She pulls her lips away from his, eyes shining brightly as she takes a look at the clock, fixes her clothes, puts on her shoes and leaves the room like a flurry. Tom surveys himself in the mirror facing him - he's nursing a bloody lip, a thumb running across the afflicted area. The bruises are prominent as of now but will fade by morning, and he is disheveled and dazed and completely, utterly breathless.
Once the bleeding stops and he looks presentable, he goes back to the dungeons - none of his roommates is in yet, and he changes quickly, shooting straight into bed. He slows his breaths and shuts his eyes, trying to will his heartbeat to a level he can fall asleep at.
If only I could achieve that.
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