Disclaimer: Never.
A/N: Ah.
Pretending To Live
Chapter 19: Gift
Even above the sounds of the wind whistling in my ears I heard the loud crack!that marked Riddle's Disapparation and it was on a fresh wave of resentment that I continued to the castle without a single backwards glance.
"The weather's awful, isn't it?"
"I suppose."
There was a short silence. "Do you want to do something?"
"Sure."
"...d'you want to have a game of chess?" Draco asked.
"No," I said and returned back to looking out the window of the Gryffindor common room.
Draco gave a sharp sigh and I registered a twinge of guilt which I then ignored. He had been trying very hard ever since the Christmas ball a few nights ago to be nice to me and I had to give him full credit, for he had refrained from making his usual sneering commentary on things like my hair and the way I ate. But I hated nothing more than to see the pity in his eyes when I looked at him so I was mostly unresponsive to his attempts at light conversation.
"Exploding Snap?"
"No."
Instead, I found myself returning again and again to the night in the Albanian forest.
After he had Disapparated into the forest again I'd found my way back to the castle. Ignoring the lively music and whirling dancers of the Great Hall (for it was barely midnight, although to me it had felt much later), I went straight to the Gryffindor common room where I was so exhausted that I had fallen asleep on my bed without even taking off my dress. I was thankful that nearly all the girls in my dormitory had left early in the morning the next day to go on their holidays because when I stirred to wakefulness sometime in the afternoon I had felt so sore that I had actually cried for a short time before I hobbled to the bathroom. What I saw in the mirror was not pretty: I looked half wild, with dirt and scratches covering my face and arms and my hair hanging in a tangled snarl down my back. My dress- formerly a translucent white- was now a multicolored mess of muddy brown, rusty scarlet from where my blood had soaked through and around the hem, blue from brushing against the carpet of violet flowers that made the forest so distinctive. I drew closer so that I was nose-to-nose with my reflection: there was a greyish tinge to my complexion and although there were not yet bags under my puffy red eyes, the skin there was a delicate shade of lavender. My corpus was beginning to stake its claim on me once more.
Now, I reflected on this as I touched the glass pane of the bay window I was sitting at. Riddle was supposed to be helping me, but... I hadn't seen him since he Disapparated. I didn't even know if he had returned to Hogwarts.
My eyebrows drew together as I stared at the gently falling snow outside.
"I've never spent Christmas at Hogwarts before," I heard Draco say in a more subdued tone and I switched my gaze to him. He was staring into space, a slight frown creasing his forehead.
"Except for the Yule Ball, of course, the year before. It's...rather empty, isn't it?"
"I remember my last Christmas," I said quietly. "It was after the third anniversary of my parents' death. It was lonely for me, too."
Draco's expression grew worried and I stood up abruptly. "I think I'll go to the Library."
I walked quickly past him before he could say anything; soon I was outside the portrait hole and my pace slowed unwillingly. I was thinking of the anniversary: For a long time it had been punctuated by a series of fleeting but disconcerting events- sucker punches, I remembered calling them, because they always took me by surprise...
Yet I had always dismissed them as hallucinations-because surely everyone turned a little crazy when they witnessed their own parents' murder- or at the very least, mere flights of fancy. But now, having been in the forest with the carpet of bluebells that I had once seen before but hadn't, I looked back on my memories of that infamous date with new eyes. The starry sky I had seen on the ceiling of my own bedroom...that was Hogwarts' nighttime indigo, seen from deep within the Forbidden Forest. The strange, incomprehensible whispers and hissing I used to hear...although they were still incomprehensible to me, they were no longer unfamiliar for now I recognized the voice of the speaker and the snake-language with which it was spoke in...
What did that mean, then? That I hadn't been hallucinating at all? That perhaps, I had been unconsciously remembering memories that I had yet to make? That...I had always been meant to...?
My head started to throb and I began to cough, loud and hacking as I doubled over. Swaying slightly, I leaned against the nearest wall until my head cleared and I could breathe normally again.
It was so frustrating to have so many unanswered questions. It was even more so to realize that, had I not followed Riddle into the forest, that this rumination on Fate, of all things, would not have been so upsetting. I remembered asking Hermione once about this, the day that I had bought my gold dress, and she had told me about the Strands of Time and Threads of Fate, and how they were both entwined, but had broken apart upon our arrival to 1944... I had half jokingly said that it was probably our fate to come here, but only now was I realizing the full truth of my words...
I wished I had never followed Riddle. How stupid was I even think of it? It had been obvious from the very beginning that it would not end well, and yet, blindly I had gone with him. Perhaps some foolish part of me had hoped for some sort of reward for my efforts, and my feelings...
For I realized it now, that this stupid crush was not solely Myrtle's fault but also my own: she had only helped to hurry the impending day of this disastrous realization. I actually, genuinely, strangely, inconceivably, unfathomably liked Tom Riddle. I don't know when it happened. Perhaps, like seemingly so much else, it was inevitable. But when he wasn't being cruel, selfish or frightening- or more accurately, in spite of this- I liked him quite a bit. More than a bit. A whole lot, actually.
So then, I suppose my current predicament was my fault. I knew that there was no way- that it was impossible that he would ever...especially for me...but I wished. I suppose that was what hurt my pride most of all. I was so, so angry, absolutely furious at him...but at the same time, it was if nothing had changed.
But I knew that what I felt didn't matter, for if he didn't feel the same way then it was all for naught and I might as well have wished the sky were red.
888
Tom frowned as he stared out the window of the Slytherin common room. No visions of the grey sky and white, snow-covered met his eyes, however; the murky green waters of the Black Lake, under which the common room was located, served well enough in its stead. He was alone; the other boys had already left for the Christmas holidays, save for McDonald and Evans but they had departed for breakfast long ago.
One long finger rubbed absentmindedly at the edge of Ravenclaw's diadem as he held it up to the greenish light; the furrow in his brows deepened as he considered it and all its worth. It was hard to concentrate.
He had forgotten about that damned ball.
Tom closed his eyes and snarled quietly. Here he was, with two of the relics of the second greatest Hogwarts founder around his neck and in his hand, and all he could think about was that ridiculous dance that he had missed- and her words in the strange, Albanian forest.
"You wouldn't give a damn what happens to me."
Stupid girl! His lip curled and he turned away from the window in disgust. Did she think that he spent his nights and days in the Come-and-Go Room merely because he enjoyed her sweet company? He had been trying to save her miserable life; it was not his fault that she felt some misplaced sense of injustice when he chose to make another Horcrux...she had even asked to come with him, to find the diadem...
He realized that he was muttering to himself and he clenched his teeth together with an audible snap. He glanced at the clock. It seemed the day was quickly going to waste: he had originally planned to test the tiara for the magical powers it was rumored to possess. But he knew that it was unwise to toy with something so powerful when his mind was distracted, as he so often was these days...
He was pacing, he realized. Tom made himself stop and then reluctantly Vanished the diadem back to its hiding place with a flick of his wand. He considered for a moment his next course of action. The prospect was not altogether favorable to him but he supposed, rather resignedly, that it was necessary to tie up loose ends.
Removing the First Locket around his neck, he turned it once in his hand and was gone.
He reappeared into the Room, some months earlier. Lazily he sidestepped the deadly violet curse that was shot his way (it knocked off a sizable chunk of wall next to him) and with raised brows, surveyed the scene of destruction before him. Splintered furniture and ash littered the place save for only one clear remaining spot, wherein his past self stood, looking both angry and irritated at Tom's arrival.
"You!" Past-Riddle said, livid.
"Yes, me," Tom said calmly, brushing off the rubble from his shoulders. "And you, technically."
He was glad to realize that he had arrived at just the right time after Ariadne had sent him those ridiculous singing Christmas flowers, for, as he noted with little surprise, that his past self was already plotting ways to kill her.
"I can make it seem like an accident," Past-Riddle was muttering in Parseltongue as he paced restlessly around the room, "Lure her into the Forbidden Forest and make it seem as if she were attacked by a wild animal...frame another student for a fit of sudden madness..."
Tom's nostrils flared and his mouth tightened with sudden, abrupt disapproval. And suddenly the difference between his present and his past was fully realized as he watched the half mad figure with feral eyes with disdain at what he perceived were the excessively brutal and cruel wishes of his younger counterpart. Ariadne could be excessively aggravating when she so chose, yes, but he did not wish such a death upon her, nor did he want see her in pain.
Then, with a pull of guilt that surprised him, he remembered her expression in the bluebell woods. Her face had been bone pale with exhaustion and stress, her dark eyes enormous with fear and her mouth very small as she struggled not to cry even as she gave voice to her fury. Tom had only ever seen her do so only once, on his behalf, the night he had murdered his father and grandparents...
It seemed he was the cause for most of her grieving, he thought with some chagrin. But it was her own fault, because not only was she rash and aggressively naïve, but also stubbornly, obstinately kind.
Which was why Tom never put much stock in the virtue.
With some difficulty, Riddle pulled himself back to the conversation in Parseltongue as he persuaded his past to accept Ariadne's offer to help him with his Horcruxes. He watched the play of emotion on his younger doppelganger's face- shock, outrage, irritation- and sighed, remembering the moment well.
"Besides," Tom said softly, persuasively, "what better way to kill her? To let her become dependent on you as the source of her antidote...and then..."
"'The Lord giveth', yes?" The other boy responded dryly in English and it disturbed Tom slightly to see the venomous glee which the idea had given them in his own face. He finished his visit with a mild warning about Ariadne's temperamental wand and was back in his present with another turn of the Locket.
The common room was still empty and Riddle collapsed, less gracefully than usual, into his preferred armchair furthest from the fireplace where his thoughts strayed again to Ariadne. He supposed that when she was particularly calm or only marginally exasperating...
No, she was abrasive even then. But she could be charming in her own way, if she so wished, and Riddle had to admit that he did appreciate her company at times. Certainly it was more desirable to him than his blunderheaded peers...
He thought of her expression in the woods again, lingering slightly on her eyes in his memory. Then he sighed, and went to change.
888
My eyes flew open as I snapped awake and put a hand up to my nose and mouth, where blood was was streaming profusely onto the yellowed pages of the book I had been reading. Moving quickly in dull alarm, I shoved the book into my bag and ran for the girls's bathroom; I barely got there in time before I was sick in one of the sinks. Coughing, I washed my face and hands, and then froze in horror when I looked down and saw that they were bound together in a cocoon of vivid red thread.
I whirled around. Yes, they were everywhere again but somehow different; I didn't know if it was just my eyes but they seemed thicker, more substantial than before. I even fancied that I could feel them, just barely, wrapped around my hands and body...but perhaps I was just imagining it.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and counted to ten.
It's just a hallucination, I told myself firmly. Your corpus is making you see things. It's not real...
I gasped as the threads began to thrum around my hands- there was no mistaking it this time, I could feel them, if only just.
Heart pounding, I opened my eyes and like before, followed the vibrating Threads out of the girls' bathroom and into the outside hallway. The tremors stopped abruptly.
Something moved, flickering, in my peripheral vision and I turned my head sharply in its direction. I recoiled back, stunned.
Hey, I said. Hey!
The shadowy figure at the end of the hall looked at me coldly- or at least it appeared to be doing so for it had no eyes that I could discern in its hollow, distorted face. It began to drift away and I ran after it.
I know you, don't I? I shouted. I've seen you before, haven't I?
The figure stopped in its tracks.
Why can't I remember? I said. What is happening to me?
"We'll take you back."
Take me back? Take me back where? I demanded. The figure merely looked at me and suddenly there was a blinding pain driving through my head...I collapsed to my knees, my nails digging into my scalp as if to tear it off...
I opened my eyes and the Threads were gone. My hands were free again and I was alone in the corridor. Disoriented and breathing raggedly, I looked around but there was no sign that anyone else had ever been here with me. But I hadn't forgotten, this time...
Who was that? I know I had seen them before...but even as I fought to remember, I knew I would not succeed for it was like trying to catch something as slippery as an eel: the minute I thought I had something, it slipped out of my fingers...
888
Tom found himself in the Hogsmeade Forest. For a moment, he simply examined his surroundings, listening with a grim expression to the distant sounds of screaming and booms of curses. Then, unexpectedly close by:
"Ben, qu'est-ce que nous avons ici?"
He started and began to move quickly through the trees; he burst into the area where the man stood, wearing the black and gold robes of Grindelwald's army, his wand raised and Tom shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"
No feeling touched his heart this time as he watched the man topple to the ground with cold eyes; this was scum, vermin. He approached the body with a sneer of contempt, twirling his wand lazily in his hand and when he heard a gasp, he looked up sharply into the wide, dark eyes of Ariadne. He surprised, although he knew he shouldn't have been for she had warned him about this before...
"Ari," he said, stowing his wand back into his suit. "And here I was, thinking you knew better."
He was pleasantly entertained by her perplexed expression but his good humor diminished as he studied her, dryly noting the angry red scrape on her thin face and her wild, dishevelled appearance. Clearly, not much had changed from past to present, he thought as he recalled the way she had looked in the Albanian forest and his brows pulled together.
"You're hurt," he said quietly and mutely, she put a hand up to her cheek as if just realizing. He stepped forward and she recoiled sharply back, which made him pause.
Tom frowned; he had to remember that this was not the Ariadne that he was accustomed to, who was perfectly comfortable around him. He remembered that she had even hugged him, once...although, he recalled bitterly, that she had not been herself at the time.
He hesitated.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said slowly, uncertainly. Why did his words ring in the air like a vow? It wasn't something he could promise. He saw the skepticism in her eyes but she let him come closer and inspect her injury.
"It's only a shallow cut. I think you'll live," he said and smiled slightly at her narrowed eyes and suspicious expression. She flinched when he pulled out his wand and healed her face; it was strange to think that the same girl had said that she had trusted him only a few days ago. It was an odd conflict.
He recognized the stony expression on her familiar, severe face and suddenly he couldn't help himself; he looked at her under his eyelashes and said in a voice he had never used on her before, "Do you think you can make it back to the castle or will I have to carry you?"
An uneven, ruddy flush brought life to her face and Tom's face became wicked as she said hotly, "No! I can manage."
She did not accept the hand he held out to her as she staggered to her feet. It was obvious that the simple action strained her even as she gripped onto the tree trunk to support her weight; her eyes fluttered briefly shut and Tom was struck by the contrast of her dark, thick lashes against the deep purple bags under them and the thin, almost delicate shape of her collarbones as they protruded outward when she moved. It occurred to him then that despite the glaring evidence of her illness...in that fleeting, heedless moment, she was very beautiful.
She was looking directly at him now, her eyes tired but fierce as always. "What?"
"How have you been feeling lately?" Tom said abruptly and she stared at him, her thick brows drawn together as if she thought he was insane. He sighed. Perhaps he was.
"I'm afraid I can't stay for much longer, Ari," he said politely. He thought darkly of the reason he was here: once more, to clean up the mess of his past self. He had brought Grindelwald's men to Hogwarts and so, he would bring them out. He was not much looking forward to the idea. But he remembered to remove the small vial of their imperfect corpus potion that it had become a habit of his to carry with him at all times, for her sake, and enclose it in Ariadne's reluctant hands.
"Where are you going?" She said as he stepped back and Tom had to smirk at the childish question and the slightly endearing way her eyes widened in alarm as he moved away. Did she not want him to leave?
"Don't worry; I'll see you in a moment," he lied reassuringly. His gaze then shifted over her shoulder at the numerous flashes of colored lights coming from the village and his expression became stern. "Watch yourself."
Taking his words literally she whirled around, wand in her hand to look behind her. Upon seeing nothing, she began, "What are you-?"
But Tom was already gone by the time she turned around.
888
I woke up in the middle of the night. Rubbing my eyes I lit my wand and glanced at the clock; barely two hours had passed since I'd fallen into an uneasy sleep.
I threw myself back onto the pillows and stared up at the canvas roof of my four poster bed. It was rather uncommon for me to be so restless when I was normally a deep sleeper, and when my corpus made me preternaturally exhausted. But I simply couldn't get any rest tonight. It wasn't that I was worried, although I was ever since seeing the red threads again, nor because I was anxious... but because even though I felt as if I could have keeled over at any time with fatigue, a part of me felt that it was wrong to do so. Something very innate and instinctual was telling me that I had no Time left to waste on something as inconsequential as sleep...
And although I felt very, very tired, that same unknown sliver of me felt most alert. I was at once both filled with racing adrenaline and somnolent weariness and this made me frustrated more than confused.
Even at the end, I couldn't get what I wanted.
888
Tom stifled a yawn, pausing in the middle of one of the nastier potions books he had found in the Restricted Section of the school library. He had borrowed it long ago, to help with some of the theory behind Ariadne's corpus potion and had not looked at it since his initial readthrough. However, since they were now starting from scratch, he felt that it would not be unwise to look over it again, although he recalled each paragraph perfectly from memory.
His eyes drifted shut as he lay in his armchair in the Slytherin common room; he had spent nearly the entire day gallivanting about in Time, dealing with his own stubborn self (and earning a rather nasty cut on his cheek, again, for his troubles) and fighting Grindelwald's soldiers- it came as no surprise then, that sleep claimed him fully the minute he closed his eyes.
But Tom was a light sleeper and the soft groan of the dungeon door that was the room's entrance as it opened was enough send his eyes snapping open and his wand out and pointed casually, but deceivingly, at the floor. Fully alert, he waited for the intruder- for Evans and McDonald had gone to bed long before, he knew, and there was no one left but himself- and drummed his long fingers patiently on the handle of his wand.
Then when the figure came into view of the light of the fireplace, he straightened immediately. Riddle was rarely surprised, but in that moment he was completely and utterly stunned when the person opened their mouth with a quiet, "Hello."
"Ariadne?"
888
The Christmas that I experienced at Hogwarts was simultaneously the best and worst of its kind. It was the best because, even though I was still slightly glum and rather cheerless on the whole, it was the first in a long time that I was surrounded by people that I loved. Despite my sulky mood, it was still my favorite holiday and so my excitement and enthusiasm inevitably surfaced and did not die when I woke up on Christmas Day and saw the small but cheerful pile of presents underneath the tree in the Gryffindor tower. I had yanked Draco out of bed at three in the morning; this made him grouchy, because he was not a morning, noon or night person.
"This is it?" He said disdainfully as he eyed the pathetic, brightly colored heap. "When I was at home, Father alone gave me twice as much as this rubbish! I don't see how you could be so excited about- are you crying?" He sounded aghast and I threw my arms around him.
"You are the best brother in the world," I said through sobs.
"You don't even know if I've given you anything," Draco said uncomfortably, although he did not push me off.
"I saw them," I positively howled, referring to the shiny pair of Mary Janes that had been pushed behind the diminutive pile of gifts, "Thank you, thank you!"
"As long as you stop wearing Dumbledore's things," he muttered, his face rather pink.
"Draco Malfoy. I love you, I really do."
"Alright, that's enough!"
I managed to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek and he shoved me off disgustedly, wiping his face.
"Well, you seem to be in a better mood now," he mumbled to himself and I pretended not to hear as I exclaimed over the rest of the gifts. Ron had given me an extra large jar of Cockroach Cluster, Harry, a new deck of non magic cards and Hermione a formidable looking textbook that explained the theory behind several advanced Charms. Even Draco received his share from the three, although he didn't seem too pleased about Ron and Harry's gift of a knitted jumper depicting a giant, white ferret on its front. He did seem more appreciative of mine: a pair of expensive, dragonhide winter gloves because he'd complained more than once of the poor quality of the wool that was used to make his school pair.
Even the weather was nice: having been nothing but blizzards for the past few weeks, the snow now lay in an all-encompassing perfect blanket of white. I dragged Draco out and made tracks in the fresh snow before he complained that he was hungry and we went back inside to have breakfast with the others, for there were so few people remaining at Hogwarts for the holidays that instead of splitting us into our Houses as usual, we all sat at one of the long tables. I pulled Christmas crackers and played a few more lazy games of wizard's chess with Harry and broke in my new deck by attempting to teach Ron some Muggle card games. The food of course was as extravagant and delicious as always, and I also discovered Draco's low tolerance to Firewhiskey, which I of course vigorously abused until I had to drag his half-passed out person back to bed. So really, my Christmas here was the best I had had in a long time.
It was the worst because Riddle had returned back to Hogwarts- that is, I saw him again in the halls- and he was avoiding me. Riddle, avoid me! The idea itself was ridiculous, for if Tom didn't want to see someone, he would have either just persuaded or cursed them out of his way. At first I thought I was imagining it even though my pride wouldn't let me contact him myself, but I soon realized that the way he mysteriously disappeared when I met him in the corridors or how I seemed always catch the tail end of his cloak as I entered the room just as he exited it was not in in my head. This frustration that this caused me hissed and bubbled and threatened to boil over at any moment, leaving me in a perpetually black mood. Why should he avoid me?
And it wasn't as though he simply didn't take notice of me- more than once, I turned around in my seat at the Gryffindor table, sure that I had felt a burning gaze on the back of my neck but when I looked at the Slytherin table, his eyes were always carefully set somewhere else.
Many times I was tempted to just do as he had done once: seat myself at his table and demand an explanation for his rude behaviour. But I was still angry at him, and so I stiffly ignored him the way he did me. Christmas passed and even through all my happiness, a part of that anger remained even though he was conspicuously absent the entire day...I had even once thought about getting him something, but it didn't really matter now and he probably would have thought nothing of it...
Despite my determination to stay neutral, my mood grew fouler after Christmas Day when I noticed that Riddle had disappeared from the castle again. It was ridiculous that my mood was so tied to him in this way but I could not help it: I was irked and angry and exasperated and despairing all the time and I forced myself to stay away from Draco so that he wouldn't feel the brunt of my frustrations. So I remained very much in this way for most of the December month, until New Year's Eve.
My birthday.
I had woken up early and gone straight to the Library where I spent the majority of the day building houses of cards in my own dark corner, away from the prying eyes of Sir Constantine. I wasn't seventeen yet, and so I patiently passed the time until I was.
I had not told Draco, nor the others about it because birthdays were always a rather lonely and quiet event for me ever since I lost my parents. We'd always celebrated them together, the three of us, and it felt as though I were breaking something very sacrosanct if I spent it with anyone else. I was lonely, but I was used to the loneliness anyway. And so in my quiet corner, I celebrated in my own way by building up my fragile houses of cards and watching them crumble down.
Draco found me just after dinner; I was just placing the final card on top of the pyramid. His eyes became wide when he saw the enormous monstrosity and I felt faintly proud even as I wobbled precariously on the high stool I was using to put the last card in place.
"This was where you were the whole day?" He said, eyeing the giant pyramid.
It took me a while before I could answer, because I was concentrating very hard on not shaking my hand too much as I finished the tower. "Yeah."
I climbed down and stood next to Draco, admiring the sight of a whole day's work.
"You missed dinner," he said, not taking his eyes off the pyramid.
"I wasn't hungry."
"How did you get so many cards?"
"I used the Gemino charm," I replied. "I'm kinda tired, brother."
He gave me a calculating look and noticed the red rims around my eyes, and my unhealthy pallor. "Are you...?"
"Perfectly fine," I said. "Just tired."
"Go to bed, then."
"I think I will." With a sigh, I studied my magnificent work one last time and then, much to Draco's astonishment, removed a single card from its base, sending the whole thing toppling down like a cloud of strange butterflies.
"Did you have to do that?" Draco said.
"Good things come to an end," I reminded him and his expression suddenly became deeply troubled. I elbowed him slightly to lighten the mood and then said, "You go on without me, I gotta clear this mess up first."
He left and I undid the charm on the cards and gathered them into my hands. One fluttered away and I ducked down under the table to retrieve it. When I surfaced, I was ready to put them all back into their box-and then I stopped, completely froze when I saw the single, scarlet poinsettia flower lying on the table.
I didn't want to touch it. For a minute, I was certain I was hallucinating again but when I stretched out my trembling fingers and stroked its crimson, velvet leaves I knew that it was real and I pulled my hand back as though I had been burned. What was this...what the hell...
I picked it up and marvelled at its glowing red color. It was beautiful: it looked like a perfect, large seven-pointed star. I didn't know why it was there or how it could have gotten there...unless...
I refused to let myself finish the thought; now that, that was absolutely ridiculous. Why would he...? When he didn't even...?
But if not, then who? I had certainly not done this, nor Draco...and who else would both charming and cruel enough to remember my favorite flower?
I stood there, unsure of what next to do and the sudden boom of the Hogwarts clocktower startled me; I nearly dropped it.
I counted nine chimes.
My eyebrows rose so far that they almost disappeared into my hairline; I stared at the Christmas flower in my hand and back in the direction of the clocktower with disbelief. I understood the message, although I didn't like it. How presumptuous was this boy, to expect me to meet him at the time that he had promised me so long ago?
Of course I wouldn't go.
I looked back at the flower. I was absolutely certain that this was why Riddle had sent it, to guilt me into coming...I suppose really, it depended on one thing: did I want to see him?
I stared into space for a minute.
Goddamn everything.
I left the Library for the Great Hall. I wasn't hurrying by any means but my footsteps did slow when I saw him standing in front of the Hall's entrance, his hands clasped behind his back as he seemingly waited for me. He wasn't facing my direction and so I approached him warily until I was a only few feet away. He turned around then and I was very much aware that this was the first time I had seen him face to face in a long time. He was as handsome as ever. To my surprise, his mouth was curled in a slight smile.
"You're late," Tom said.
Something red rippled behind my eyes; I opened my mouth in a snarl but he swiftly interrupted before I could say anything.
"Come for a walk with me?" He said, gesturing his arm out at the grounds. I appraised him with an odd look: his grey eyes were focused on my own and there was a strange expression there that was caught somewhere between earnestness and uncertainty despite his casual tone. It stopped the "no" I was about to give him in its tracks. With an angry shrug, I stalked past him, taking the way up the marble staircase instead rather than outside. He caught up to me easily with his long stride and stayed by my side, saying nothing else until we reached my destination: a secluded stone balcony that jutted out from the Astronomy Tower and overlooked the Black Lake.
I crossed my arms and hovered my the entrance and watched him with an expression that was half perturbed, half frustrated as he walked past me to look out over the edge, his hands resting calmly on its stone surface.
He was acting very strangely. After a moment or so, I joined him on the balcony, throwing my arms over the cold stone.
"It's my birthday today." I said during the silence that ensued.
Riddle made an involuntary movement and I raised my eyebrows at his startled reaction. His eyes met mine and his brow was furrowed as though he had come across something very difficult to understand. Then, very quietly he said, "Mine too."
"Oh." I felt awkward despite my surprise. I remembered something Luna Lovegood had said to me once when I first met her and she had read out that eerily accurate Muggle horoscope and I half smiled. "You know..." I said thoughtfully, "...that means you have a fetish for fluffy woollen things."
Clearly, this was the last thing he'd expected to say; Tom let out a disbelieving laugh. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, of course," I said, enjoying myself despite my earlier apprehension. I didn't realize how much I'd felt the loss until I was around him again: this was what felt comfortable, this light and inconsequential teasing. "Don't you believe me?"
The question seemed to sober him; the laughter drained from his face, which now looked very sombre. I watched him with a deep frown, wondering what his problem was- and then he jolted slightly, his moody expression changing into one of wonder. "Ah."
"What?"
Tom passed a hand over his eyes. "You'll find out in a moment."
Impatiently, I waited for him to say more but he remained stubbornly silent. Minutes ticked passed and then a rush of sudden heat flooded my body, and then was gone as abruptly as it came. Slightly dazed I asked, "What was...?"
"Your Trace is gone, Ariadne," Tom replied without looking at me. "Congratulations: you're seventeen."
I stared at him and his eyes flickered to mine before returning back to the Lake.
"Riddle..." I said slowly, and I held up the scarlet flower that I still carried between us. "...what is this?"
Tom stared at it for a long moment, lost in thought. Then he turned his gaze to me and there was that odd look again, which made me feel slightly disconcerted. "Just a reminder," he said quietly. "I owe you a dance, don't I?"
I took a step back; my eyes were wide as I said, "Tom..."
A faint smile curved his lips as he offered his hand to me. "Will you give me the honor?"
I felt strangely breathless; I shook my head frantically. "I can't dance, Tom."
"Can't you?" He hummed. "It's very easy, I promise."
After a beat, I set the flower on the balcony and reluctantly put my hand in his, barely touching him. His skin was very cold and it felt like my hand was very hot, almost burning against his. He pulled me gently closer, wrapping his long fingers around my own and put my hand so that it was resting on his shoulder while he put his own against the small of my back. I needed the help because I seemed to have gone quite numb; strangely, throughout all of this only one thing registered and that was that I had never realized how tall Tom Riddle was. The top of my head only came up to his chin and I had to tilt my head a fair bit just to look at him properly.
"Just follow me," he said and then we were moving, rather slowly for a waltz, over the snow covered stone floor of the balcony to the beat of some silent melody. I was concentrating so hard on this mute rhythm that my tense muscles forgot themselves and unlocked as we made swirls in the snow.
"Very good," he said approvingly after a while and I looked up and offered him a quick but slightly strained smile. We continued to revolve on the floor in silence, my heart thumping unevenly all the while as I waited for him to explain himself.
When he said nothing, I gathered my courage to look directly in his eyes and questioned him silently with my own. He understood, but some of the hurt and confusion I was feeling must have shone through for his expression became contrite.
"I haven't been on my best behaviour, have I?" He said quietly.
"No," I whispered. "Not really."
He stared at me with the same strange expression as before. "I suppose..." He said but he seemed to lose track of his thoughts. Abruptly, he said, "I have something for you."
I was thrown off by this sudden change in direction. "What?"
"I was originally hoping to give it to you as a late Christmas present...but I suppose it does rather well as a birthday gift now, doesn't it?" He half smiled but it didn't touch his eyes, which were tight.
"You shouldn't have gotten me anything," I said.
"Don't be spoiled," he replied and the smile faded from his face completely. He looked almost grim but there was an undercurrent of-anticipation?-that worried me. "Close your eyes."
I gave him a disbelieving look and he merely said, unsmiling, "I thought you trusted me."
We had stopped revolving and now stood completely still underneath the soft fall of snow. I studied him carefully but his expression was completely blank. Then I sighed and shut my eyes.
This was strange: I was now infinitely more aware of his hand around mine and at my back which felt like they were stinging. I felt him remove my hand from his shoulder so that he held both of them gently by my wrists between us. I waited expectantly. Tom made a noise like a sigh and suddenly I felt the weight of something small and burning hot, despite the cold, fall into my cupped palms.
I gasped; I nearly dropped it then and my eyes flew open as I stared into Riddle's very calm face. "Tom-"
"My gift to you." He said quietly. "You wished for more Time, yes? I'm afraid this was the best I could do..."
"Tom, you can't do this, you can't let me have this-" I choked, unable to speak. My fingers were curled into claws around the First Locket as if unwilling to close around it, unwilling to accept it...
"It's alright," Tom said.
I read the look in his eyes and was rendered momentarily speechless again; I croaked, "The Second...?"
He smiled slightly as if he had expected the question. "Yes."
But I did not see any sign of the gold chain of Slytherin's Locket around his neck, nor the greedy expression in his eyes like I had seen on the night of the Ball. Instead they were perfectly grey and focused on mine as he took the Locket from my frozen hands and put it around my neck himself.
There was a stinging sensation in my eyes and I realized, stupidly, that I was crying again. When he pulled back he did a slight double take. Then his stormy eyes softened and he said very softly, "Happy Birthday, Ariadne."
Oh, but he was very cruel. I had to understand how much the Locket meant to him...what a sacrifice it must have been for him to let go of it, this tenuous connection to the power he so desperately desired...and give it to me. I couldn't...I didn't...
It took me a while to find my voice."I..." I cleared my throat. "I have something for you too."
He raised an eyebrow and I brushed away the tears still clinging to my lashes. I tried to smile. "You have to close your eyes, though."
His eyes betrayed his curiosity but he closed them.
I stared at him for a moment.
Then I took a deep breath, stretched up to my toes because he was so tall, and kissed him.
A/N: ...
Merry Christmas, everyone.