"Ahh!" Dumbledore said as Tom walked into the Great Hall, rubbing his eyes. He looked up, and suddenly realized that he forgot to put on his Head Boy badge.
"Tired, I presume," Dumbledore said, approaching him. Headmaster Dippet scurried behind him.
"Riddle! Riddle! We need to talk!" Dippet said, taking Tom's cold, pale hand. "Now." The finality in Dippet's eyes made Tom nod reluctantly, and Dippet led him out. Dumbledore followed him through the maze of corridors and to the Headmaster's doorway. He opened the oak doorway, and he saw Kristen and Mark sitting on a couch, Mark's arm around Kristen's shoulders. A middle-aged couple, the woman looking a lot like Rebecca, was sitting on a pair of chitz chairs, the woman sipping a cup of hot tea.
"Mr. and Madam Kristobal, may I introduce the Head Boy, Mister Tom Riddle?" Dippet squeaked, and the Kristobals stood up.
"I have been told that you may have some information about our daughter," Mr. Kristobal said, shaking Tom's hand. Tom smiled weakly, seeming to look tired. Mrs. Kristobal only nodded, and Tom nodded back politely. He sat down next to Mark, who gave him an ice-cold glare. Tom turned to look at Dippet and Dumbledore, who was locking the door shut.
"Mr. Riddle!" Mrs. Kristobal burst out, and the three students and two teachers jumped in fright. "WHERE IS REBECCA? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER?" She shook Tom's shoulders hysterically, and Dumbledore and Dippet and Mark all together had to pull her off of him. Tom didn't look frazzled though.
"I am quite not sure," Tom began slowly. "I mean, I wasn't on too friendly terms with her." His voice remained calm, and the Kristobals seemed so gullible that they drunk in every word he said. Kristen looked at him curiously, and so did Mark. Only Dumbledore's face was calm, and interestingly distant.
"She seemed to be angry a lot, though," Tom said in a polite tone.
"Of course, of course! She was getting married, and she sounded infuriated in the reply letters she sent me!" Mrs. Kristobal said.
"MARRIED?" Mark and Kristen asked in surprise, and Tom only echoed them. Mrs. Kristobal nodded, and Mark looked ashamed, and Kristen presumed her crying. Only Tom looked falsely frazzled.
"She dropped a note about that somewhere…" Tom said distantly.
"Tell me, Mr. Riddle!" Mrs. Kristobal and Kristen said in unison.
"She said something about how she hated her mother…and how this man she was supposed to marry…was…I am sorry, but it is not appropriate enough to say here," Tom said, faking sorrow in his voice.
"I knew you shouldn't have said yes to him!" Mr. Kristobal shouted. Mrs. Kristobal ignored him.
"The next thing I know, she's not at the meeting I was supposed to have with Professor Slughorn this morning," he said, sounding surprised. All the teachers nodded. Tom looked at Kristen sobbing, and he could vaguely sense that Rebecca was crying somewhere too.
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Rebecca was, indeed, sobbing. A horrible feeling of guilt passed over her, and she leaned against the kitchen counter, wiping her eyes. Stop it! Stop it! You're being such a baby! Stop it! She felt a sudden pang of betrayal, and she looked out the 4th floor window. She could see a Priest putting up white and pink flowers around the church, and she turned away instantly.
"Miss?" someone knocked on the door. She wiped her eyes on the edge of her sweater and patted her hair into place. She opened the door to see a familiar, blond man. He smiled and looked sympathetic.
"Are you okay?" he asked her. She suddenly realized who this was.
"Umm…yes," she stuttered. The man wove his fingers through his hair and looked at her.
"I…um…couldn't help noticing your sobs," he confessed, and smiled a beautiful smile. She couldn't help smiling weakly back, and she remembered that she was married.
"I…erm…see," she said hastily, looking at the floor. The blond man took a step towards her.
"You look familiar," he said, and she took a step back.
"Don't worry! I don't bite," he said appreciatively, and she took another step back as he approached her.
"Please," she said, her voice trailing off. He stopped at where he was and looked at the small flat. Only a small, desolate room was there, a tidy bed and a clean table.
"Miss…" he began.
"Please, sir," she said, tugging her sleeve, "I need to go to work." He nodded and let her through.
"You mean you'll see me later today?" he asked her. She turned around to see his face crumpled up with rage.
"That BITCH!" he cried, and she fell to the floor, knowing the blame was coming to her.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he said quickly. "I'm not usually like this." Rebecca nodded, and pointed to the table.
"I lied; I don't have to go to work today. Would you like to drop in for a cup of tea?" she asked, walking into the kitchen. The blond man nodded and followed her into the house. She set a full kettle on the stove and took down two teacups. Apparently, Tom had prepared for her arrival. She also pulled out two tea leaves, and that reminded her of Divination. Clutching her head, feigning that she had a headache, she put the tea leaves into the cups. She sat down in a chair, looking at the floor.
"I think we should introduce ourselves," he said, and she nodded in return.
"I'm John," he said, cautious to give his last name. She nodded and shook his hand politely.
"Becky," she said in return, forcing herself to make the fake name come to her lips. "My real name is Becka." He nodded and looked at her carefully.
"You're pretty young," he said, his voice softening. She blushed and looked at the floor innocently. Tom, please come soon. Please. she prayed quietly in her head. As if her prayer had come true, she heard something in the lock. She went to the door, and saw an anxious, yet very tired and worn-out Tom. He smiled weakly, but his face fell as he saw the man at the table.
"He's a neighbor. Wanted to say hello," she said hastily, and he nodded tiredly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…" John started, standing up.
"Thomas," Tom supplied, and they shook hands.
"It was a pleasure talking to you, Miss Becky," John said, and he left the room. Tom turned to look at her, shutting the door slowly.
"Great God," she gasped, and she ran to the stove. The kettle jumped up and down, and just as she reached for an oven mitt, Tom caught her by the waist. She turned to face him, and he kissed her.
"Come on," he whispered to her, urging her to the bed, but she gently pulled away. She went to the stove and poured water into the cups. Tom only watched her eyes lower sadly, and she pressed a warm cup into his cold, pale hands.
"Later," she mouthed, kissing him on the cheek. "I need to cut my hair."
