June 1944 - I Just Came to Say Goodbye

"I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her,

I′m right over here, why can′t you see me,

I'm giving it my all, but I′m not the girl you're taking home,

I keep dancing on my own"

- Robyn

The music was booming when she arrived, a bottle of McSpratt in hand, from which she had emptied the content and replaced it with gin. She briefly glanced at her reflection in the entrance mirror and fixed her hair with one hand. She had prepared herself carefully that evening, put on make up and shaved her legs, picked matching underwear.

She was ready.

She stepped within the room, arm in arm with her friends, her heart skipping a beat as the crowd engulfed her.

Naturally, the school year could not have ended without a decent feast, and Annabel glanced around her, mesmerised by the profusion of food and the champagne fountains that stood in each corner. Certainly, the Hufflepuffs knew how to party.

The Sixth Years were particularly adamant in enjoying the night. They knew their carelessness was short-lived, for right around the corner stood the NEWTs, and the tiring revising that went with it.

The girl grabbed a glass of sparkling wine before she turned around to take in the room. She sipped her drink, waiting patiently for the compact mass of bodies to step aside and reveal the back of the room. The music changed for an upbeat rhythm and the crowd cheered at the popular song, gathering close to the middle, finally unblocking the view to the sitting corner.

Finding Tom Riddle in a crowd was easy, for he was always surrounded by an incongruous group of people. Close friends and fellow Slytherins of course, but also admirers, enamoured girls or boys but also regular kids curious of the school's prodigy.

As always, Annabel was stunned by the ease with which Tom attracted people, as if his self confidence was contagious, as if his simple company could make people special or worthy.

She gave him a long stare, standing in the corner of the room, acknowledging the polite look on his face while he was listening to the story Nott was narrating. The latter was loud, making excessive gestures but it was at Tom that the people were looking, darting him sidelong looks to nod when he nodded, to frown when he frowned.

Annabel cocked her head to the side.

Did she also look like a sheep when she was around him?

A girl with fair skin and golden hair sat down next to Tom, on the pleated arm of the sofa. She was beautiful, that girl, with her delicate features and her flimsy dress. Casually, she seized the glass he was holding and took a sip before handing it back to him. Tom did not look at her, but the way he tolerated such familiarity made Annabel think that their relationship extended far beyond the simple stage of acquaintance.

She reflected over Tom's many conquests, all the young women he had reportedly brought to the prefect's bathroom. She had observed them during the past few weeks, those girls who circled him, in the hope to learn some mannerisms, some ways to flirt which could help her with her plan. Yet, after many attempts at looking desirable in the mirror, Annabel had had to admit that she knew nothing about the art of seduction.

The Ravenclaw was about to bring the coupe to her lips when she realised her glass was empty. She turned around to go fetch herself another drink when she bumped into the Quidditch captain.

"Hi" he said, a beer in hand.

His breath smelled of overripe fruit and she stepped aside, eager to distance herself from her ex-boyfriend. Yet, he seemed willing to talk, and soon enough, she was stuck between the wall and the Gryffindor. She sighed, half-heartedly listening to what he had to say, hoping for his monologue to be over already.

He spoke for what felt like hours, about things she did not wish to hear and could not care less about.

Annabel glimpsed the girl who had sat next to Tom, her hand now covering her mouth as she giggled daintily. She had leaned a bit forward, her arm resting on the back of the sofa, her hand dangerously close to the prefect's shoulder.

The Quidditch captain moved, suddenly blocking the view and Annabel tried to peek over the boy's shoulder, to no avail.

He began to apologise with tears almost pricking at his eyes and Annabel put a great deal of efforts not to cringe at the sight of the boy's weeping face.

He kept blathering and Annabel's patience began to run thin. She glanced at her watch, noticed how long she had been stuck in the young man's unpleasant company already.

"So what do you say?" he finally asked.

"About what?"

"About us starting over"

Annabel did not bother to respond and she stepped aside, ready to go back to her lookout post when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She spun around, surprised by the captain's firm grip.

"Hey, I'm talking to you" he grumbled, staggering on his feet but she pushed him away once she noticed with stupor that Tom was gone.

She glanced around, craned her neck in search of the Slytherin who was nowhere to be found.

Silently pestering against the Quidditch captain for scuttling her plan, Annabel strolled inside the room in search of the prefect.

She ran into Alastair who exited the bathroom and she seized the young man's arm, pulled him towards her unceremoniously.

"Where is Tom?" she snapped and Alastair frowned.

"Are you all right?"

"Have you seen him?"

"He just left with a girl" he said with a shrug and Annabel winced.

Fuck.

She rushed towards the upper storeys, ignoring the sardonic glances some people shot her as she flew up the stairs. Certainly, she had no way to know they had retreated in Tom's bedroom, but she did not know where else to search.

She could not fail, she told herself as she walked past the first floor. She had already drank her potion and casted the spell.

The girl made it to the sixth floor with a racing heart and she headed towards the prefect's bedroom with decisive steps. The corridor was dim, hardly lit and she stood in the darkness for a while until she mustered the courage to knock on the door.

She waited, seconds flowing by slowly.

What if they were not in his apartments? What if they were making out elsewhere, in a broom closet or a secret passageway?

She considered turning around, ready to search every single nook of the castle if she had to, but the very moment she took a step back, the door swung open.

The warm light of the room blinded her and she lingered in the obscurity for a while until her eyes adapted to the brightness.

"Please let them not be butt-naked" she begged Merlin, or whoever who might hear her as she took a deep breath and entered the room.

Tom was there, sitting behind his desk.

Alone, and fully dressed.

The girl shut the door behind her and took a few steps as she observed the young man who was busy writing.

He was handsome in the subdued light, with his regal bearing, a long finger stroking his lips while the other hand held his quill. She imagined the beautiful undulations of each letters he traced on the paper, and such thought reminded her of the last time he held her.

She cleared her throat, in the hope to trigger a reaction in the young man but he seemed too busy to pay heed to her. She had expected that he would at least grant her one word, one look, anything that would prove that he knew she was there. Yet, he remained oblivious of her unforeseen presence and a shiver ran down her spine at the young man's disregard.

She waited politely near the door for a while, a bit gauche, swaying left and right on her feet.

"What do you want?" he asked at last, as if finally aware of her growing impatience.

His tone was sharp and uncalled-for and it rattled the girl's assurance a bit.

Annabel chewed on her bottom lip, now certain that he was in a sour mood. She wished she knew how to appease him, tame his temper but the past months of their mutual indifference made her feel like he was out of reach. She wondered if going straight to the point would not be best. After all, Tom Riddle always praised efficiency.

"A while ago, when you asked me to teach you about the Dark Arts, you made a promise"

His hand stopped moving, as if he waited for her to continue.

"You said you would owe me one" she added hesitantly, expecting him to chime in.

Yet, he did not and simply returned to his writing. Time passed, each second longer than the previous one. The room was silent, to the exception of the fire that crackled in the hearth.

"Do you… remember?"

"I do" he finally replied but his tone was ice cold.

She swallowed, a lump growing in her throat. She decided to look on the bright side. He remembered. That was already a good thing. Surely she spared herself the trouble of having to probe his memory.

She took a gutsy step towards the young man as she pursued:

"I need you to repay me"

"Tonight" she added when she understood that he would ask no further questions.

She stared at him openly, observed the way he casually turned a page to keep on writing.

It was fairly insulting, to have him ignore her like that, and she considered leaning over the desk and snatch the notebook from his hand. Yet, she assumed that such aggressiveness would not help her have him to her bidding and she took a deep breath instead, and reiterated her request.

"Will you help me?"

His answer was like a slap in the face.

"No" he said quite simply, and her voice was strangled when she queried:

"What do you mean 'no'"?

Tom added a dot at the end of his sentence and moved his hand to start a new paragraph.

He did not respond to her last question, hoping for her to leave.

Had he not be clear enough?

He repressed a sigh, longing for nothing else but some alone time before he was to go back to the orphanage for the summer.

Enough unpleasantness had crossed his way already.

Slughorn, who had pestered him with some dinner party he ought to attend. Dippet, who had importuned him with some unrequested advices about his future. That girl who he had found entertaining at first, until she had asked between two sighs to whom of his two parents he owed his good looks.

That, certainly, had been the last straw.

Until Annabel had stepped in his bedroom to bother him about whatever crappy plan she had schemed on her own.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw her grow impatient, crossing her arms in front of her chest with a disapproving glance.

"You refused even though you don't know what I'm asking for"

"Tell me then"

He slammed his diary shut and placed his quill in the ink pot, finally looking at her with an exasperated glance. His heart constricted at the sight of her, how gorgeous she was with her creamy grecian gown and her sparkling earrings. Yet, he impatiently barked at the girl, hurrying her to tell him what the heck this was all about.

He expected her to throw some demand related to witchcraft, or his prefect position, to accompany her to the Forbidden Forest or nip something from the Potion Master's office.

Yet, it was a far different request that she had. Certainly, he had not seen it coming.

"I would like you to-" she began, her words dying in her throat while her cheeks became a bright crimson.

She took a quick breath.

"I would like you to show me…"

"What you do with the other girls"

If he had not been seated, Tom would have had to sit down. He took a minute to digest such a revelation, his brows furrowed as he processed her request.

"Excuse me?"

"Please don't make me ask again"

Tom darted her an inflexible glance before he was gripped by the irrepressible need to move. He stood up and took a step in her direction, to stand between her and his desk.

In other circumstances, he would have found her rather sweet, standing gauchely in front of his desk with her bold demand. Yet, after months-long of disregard, her request felt like nothing but salt in a wound. And somehow, the sick desire to hurt her like she had hurt him gripped him.

Tom leaned against the furniture behind him, his face now at the height of the girl's.

"You want me to fuck you in exchange of your teaching about the Dark Arts?" he asked, conscious of the crudity of his words but he wanted to shock her, to shake her, he wanted her to realise what she was truly asking.

Annabel squirmed in front of him.

"I'm not sure whether 'fuck' is the appropriate word" she grumbled and Tom let out a mirthless laugh, all the more angered by the girl's naïveté.

"Why, you asked me to show you what I do to the other girls didn't you? What did you think? That I make love to them?"

Slowly, he placed a finger under her chin to lift her face.

"Really, Annabel? Is this what you think happens?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You find me confused. Weren't you the one who rejected me last time? What were your words again?"

Annabel swallowed in obvious discomfort, her lower lip trembling.

"Say it for me darling, would you? What did you tell me the last time you saw me?"

He grabbed her jaw with one hand, moved her lips like if she was puppet.

"I'm no whore" he reminded her. "Isn't it what you said?"

"Well it seems to me that you will have to rethink your very words Annabel..." he stated before he pursued, vicious.

"... Because good girls don't go to boys in the middle of the night and demand to get laid"

He smiled, stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Now, I have a question for you" he said as he clasped his hands around the girl's shoulders to turn her around, making her face the room as he pointed to the nearest corner.

"I would not offer to deflower you against the wall, because you wouldn't quite like that, would you?"

"How about the floor then?" he questioned as he pointed to the carpet that stood before the sofa.

"Mh?" he asked, cocking his head so he could probe her face, acknowledging that she seemed on the verge of tears.

"I'll let you choose" he whispered almost lovingly as he pulled her towards him.

But when his fingers grazed her hips, when his palms headed towards her girth, he felt her shake like a leaf, and the baseness of his gesture made his chest constrict.

He would not take her. Not tonight. Not like that.

"Leave" he ordered as he pushed her away forcefully and she staggered. She looked at him with wide eyes, as if stunned by his sudden change of emotions.

"Go find someone else to fulfil your little fantasy" he snapped at her, curt, his back turned to her for he could not stand to see her face. And yet, he peeked at her one last time, to watch her take her leave, his heart heavy.

Until she turned around, headed towards him one last time.

"Goodbye Tom" she whispered against him, and he knew, then, that Annabel's lips tasted of farewell.