AN: shoutout to Duhfull! Thank you for your review! I totally understand original main characters aren't so popular, but in my defense, I'd never written a Tom Riddle fic before, and I consider this practice if I were to ever dip my toes in another ship, like Tomione for instance haha I want to write a Tomione story badly, but all my ideas are basic and cliché. I suppose it doesn't matter, as long as I put my own twist on it. All of them are like, 'Hermione goes back in time to turn Tom Riddle around and save the world', and that's literally the only sort of plot I can think of myself lol
aisha_hx – lmfao, I'm gonna have to watch love island now haha it might give me some good ideas! Thank you so much for your consistent comments and insights on my chapters, it really makes my day!
The Seventh
Chapter Four: Snowdrop
- : o : -
Anemone wasn't going to the balcony. What the hell would they even talk about? Was she supposed to be swept away?
Well, it was not as if she wasn't swept away. She was a little bit… but Tom was going to have to do a lot more than that, sharing a dance with her, a minor public display of affection. All of these little mind games between them spun her thoughts in circles.
She did not want to be just another boy's conquest. She couldn't forget that.
"I really like your dress, Anemone," said Lisa Finkle to Anemone as she passed by. Lisa was a Ravenclaw sixth year, agreed to be overall plain-looking by her peers. She didn't have the best skin, nor the nicest hair. She wore large round glasses and had a crooked, toothy smile, but her family was rich, and Lisa had the scholarly aptitude to have been invited to Slughorn's club.
"Oh, thank you so much," Anemone returned genuinely. "Your hair looks very lovely tonight, Lisa."
"Thank you!" Subconsciously, Lisa pushed up and primped her stylishly curled, short blonde hair. A little idea suddenly struck Anemone.
"Hey, Lisa, uhm, do you have a moment? I just… really need a favor you see."
"Really?" Lisa pushed her glasses up her nose, curiosity gleaming on her features.
"Yes," Anemone ushered the smaller girl into a private corner. "I'll even give you a few knuts to do it. Of course, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but it would mean a lot to me if you could do this one, silly little thing."
- : o : -
Tom waited and waited. It could have been nearly twenty minutes that went by for all he knew before finally there was a rustling of the curtains and a small figure stepped outside.
His face fell, crestfallen. He tried not to feel the sting of the letdown.
"Tom Riddle,"
"Hm?" He acted as if the girl's presence was neither here, nor there. "What is it?"
"Uh, Lisa Finkle, sir," she greeted.
Tom smirked dismally. He knew who she was. He knew about almost every soul in this castle. "Can I help you, Miss Finkle?"
"I – so sorry, but I have a message for you."
His eyes rolled upward of their own accord, one hundred and eighty degrees, hitting the spectrum of his brain.
"Mm. Get on with it then,"
"It's not a verbal message, it's a handwritten note."
Tom's head was reeling. "Well then, Finkle, why didn't you just hand that over to begin with?" He held out his hand, palm unfurling.
Lisa smacked the folded up parchment in it and scurried away beyond the curtains before she had to endure more of the Head Boy's potential wrath.
Tom felt complete and utter mortification as he opened and read the note.
Nice try.
For several unbidden moments, Tom allowed himself to feel the sadness. He steeled himself, leaving the balcony; walking along the outskirts of the giant parlor, not really seeing anybody as he searched in vain for only one particular brand of cascading, sunshine rose hair.
It didn't take a genius to realize she had left the party early.
He felt infuriated, scorned.
And yet still, still… it didn't feel enough to hinder him. If anything, the anger made him feel that much more stubborn about it.
The next day was Saturday, naturally.
On his way to lunch, Tom could hear the girls walking and snickering in front of him. "Did you see Anemone Fell on her way to Slughorn's party?"
"Oh yes, I can't get over how beautiful she was! That dress was really so lovely."
"I'd like to wear something like that some time! Can you imagine?" The younger witches squealed in daydreamy delight.
It only further fueled the fire blazing just beneath the surface of his skin.
Then, in the library –
"I saw it!"
"You should have seen the way they danced!"
Two sixth years who had been at the soiree to see his shenanigans, whispering about him annoyingly loudly to a few others who hadn't been there, as if they wanted him to hear them gossiping about him – which would have been fine if his plan was actually working. As fortune would have it, he'd hit a brick wall.
"He looked like he was in love with her!"
Alright, now those blasted kids were taking it way too far. He had half a mind to go over there and deduct points, teach them a lesson.
Yet then, she walked by. Her nose was in a book, seemingly not paying anyone any mind, which was typical for her.
"There she is,"
"Shh!"
The gossiping sixth years finally hushed each other up about it.
Tom felt as if he were in a damnable muggle play, Shakespeare perhaps. It certainly felt like a tragedy to him, if anything. Maybe a dark comedy, but somehow, frustratingly, not a romance.
Stupid kids. Lovesick morons.
Tom always had second and third back up ideas, but at that moment, he was at Plan F and after so many failed attempts, he was having to regroup. Not to mention, NEWTS were fast approaching and he had a school to continue to academically dominate.
- : o : -
That day, instead of venturing out as she usually did, Anemone had stayed indoors and studied. Regardless, there was a terrible thunderstorm that blackened the sky and never seemed to let up.
In fact, it did not stop raining all week and not a soul in the castle wasn't studying, especially the fifth and seventh years.
Tom left Anemone alone and maintained civility, save for a few sharp glances here or there. Anemone was still left feeling uneasy. It was like she had done something very wrong and somehow, she actually felt bad for Tom.
She felt like, despite Tom's persistence and, practically harassment on his part, she felt like she blew him off without even giving him a chance.
The following weekend, the glowing yellow sun streamed through the puffy white clouds and finally the rain ceased. Anemone was finally able to walk up to the Three Broomsticks for a well-deserved butterbeer.
She liked to be alone. Anemone was a loner, a drifter and was used to studying, training and trekking out to places by herself.
However, this time, Margot McBride, a darling little fifth year Hufflepuff, followed her all the way there, chatting and clucking like a restless, overstimulated hen the entire way.
The girl was undeniably adorable, but also frightfully insufferable. She forced Anemone against her will into Gladrags and she might as well have forced Anemone to buy that beautiful black velvet cloak she couldn't put down as well.
It was really just Anemone's consolation to feeling so downright miserable. What better, than to spend more money on gorgeous material items she didn't really need but wanted?
It was better than giving in to a certain snake's sexual whims.
After leaving Gladrags, Anemone took Margot to the Three Broomsticks with her. Margot insisted.
Yet unfortunately, as Anemone began rifling through her pockets, her bag, she felt rise the heat of embarrassment, realizing she no longer had any spare money.
A hard, thin physique collided ever so softly with her and Anemone blinked up in puzzlement, flinching to find Tom Riddle towering over her.
"Tom!? I mean, Riddle," Anemone had to catch her breath, her throat hitching and she swallowed a pesky ball of nerves.
His thick brows went up high in surprise. "Didn't mean to scare you, though I had no idea that would be the key to hearing you scream my name."
Anemone's teeth clenched, anguish boiling inside her heart.
Yet before she could say another word, before she could protest, Tom plopped several galleons into her palm. Fast as a snitch, he left the pub without explanation.
It felt strange for Tom, to do something nice that hadn't been planned. Yes, it was part of the overall agenda, the agenda to find a way to get Anemone to fall for him – but giving her a few galleons had been a spur of the moment action he made because he genuinely wanted to help the girl he liked, not because he wanted to buy her over, though he suspected that is exactly how it looked.
She could internalize that however she wilt. Tom could only throw the ball so far before the other player decided to put their hands in the game and take it.
"Oh, wow!" Exclaimed Margot who turned around, staring dreamily after Riddle's retreating form. "Were you just talking to the Head Boy?"
"Yeah," murmured Anemone quietly, not knowing how to feel about the small gesture of kindness.
"Wow! You're soo lucky, you know. I overheard some of the older girls saying they think he really likes you."
"Oh."
"Has he asked you out yet?"
"What?"
"You know, to go steady?"
"Oh, no. Of course not,"
"Hmm, that's odd. I wonder why."
"It's, I… it's a long story." Anemone sighed. She definitely didn't feel like hashing up her lack of a love life and explaining why she chose to hide behind her walls instead of diving headfirst into relationships. She did not want to have to explain how she'd been rejecting the Head Boy, saying 'no' to him.
No one ever said 'no' to Tom Riddle. The young witch, who idolized the snake much like the rest of the female population at Hogwarts, would be aghast at Anemone for jilting him and potentially missing out on such a rare opportunity.
"I understand."
Anemone ordered their butterbeers and the Hufflepuff thanked her graciously. It should not have been Anemone she was thanking, but Riddle. If Anemone had not spent her last galleons on her new cloak… Anemone never liked being given money. It felt like cheating.
Mercifully, Margot did not press Anemone further about the topic of Tom Riddle, though she knew down the line, the girl would regale the information she did know to any ears who were dying to listen.
The hours drew on and the sun had set.
Anemone realized she had drunk a little too much.
Dickon Weasley had coerced her and a few of the others in the ensemble of people she was vaguely friends with, to go down to the Hog's Head for a couple of rounds of firewhiskey. Anemone had forgiven Dickon days prior for leaving her for Carol at the party.
Apparently, the two of them had also left the gathering early and had enjoyed an impromptu rendezvous together. Therefore, Dickon was nothing but grateful toward Anemone for being his 'helpmate', as he'd called it and getting two ex-lovebirds back together, if only for an evening.
It had not even been Anemone's doing. Once again, the thanks should have gone to the Head Boy.
It had been a while since Anemone had drunk this much, and she'd only ever done it a handful of times. As a result, it wasn't very long before she thought she might retch and needed some fresh air. She found her way out onto the docks.
After a moment, staring up at the moon, she didn't mean to, but she began crying. Every once in a while, like a hard ocean wave it would hit her – the grief. She missed her dad. It was not fair he had died. He'd been so young and lively still.
Though her mother and he had been separated for a while, whispers of divorce hanging in the air before his death, her mum had still very much loved him and regretted not staying in the islands with her husband.
Anemone wept more profusely now, mourning deeply not just her father, but her life in the Pacific Ocean. She greatly missed summering in New Zealand. Her skin used to be even darker, now struggling under the constant cloud covered Scottish sun.
There was a shadow and she almost screeched, realizing it was Riddle leaning over the wooden railing. The sounds of the breeze along the trickling water tried hard to be soothing despite Anemone's escalating nerves. She couldn't believe Tom was out here and she was weeping so blatantly right in front of him. He caught her and it was humiliating.
Anemone felt herself tense up as the snake drew near.
Tom didn't quite understand the depth of what it meant to comfort someone, but as he saw the wet tears streaking down the witch's cheeks he couldn't stop his body from stepping closer.
"Should I ask?" His cool voice was soft and gentle.
"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. She wasn't in the mood for the sarcasm and dark bravado that surrounded a meeting with the Head Boy.
"Everything matters, in the end…" Tom replied, so curious as to what had her upset.
Did some idiot in the Hog's Head take their nonsense too far? Fell had clearly been drinking a lot by the time it was now and the time he'd given her some galleons hours ago. It was after eleven o'clock. She hadn't even had any money. The louts had been feeding her alcohol all night.
"My dad. He's… passed away."
Tom remained stoney eyed, but his lip twitched in knowing. "I see. I… I'm sorry for you." Tom pretended as if he did not hear his own pitied statement. He never liked uttering condolences. It was difficult for him to care, to feel the authenticity of the empty words.
"It was too late. I didn't get to say goodbye." She sniffled, wiping the last of her tears. "I try not to let it, but it kills me every day." Anemone chuckled darkly, cynically, her gaze saturated with guilt.
"My father's dead too." Tom offered slowly, cautiously. Anemone's somewhat startled gaze sought his, her mouth opening slightly in surprise, new thoughts and notions spinning in her mind. "How did it happen?" He lightly queried.
"It was… cancer. 'Came on too fast, was spread all over inside him before we even knew what was going on. He was… ready, in the end, but I didn't get back to New Zealand fast enough."
Not shocking in the least, for a weak muggle man, Tom was thinking. "Mm. That's… terrible."
"What about your father?"
Tom didn't answer right away, the silence stinging like lightning through the air. "Murder."
"Ah. Wow," Anemone was sheepish. "I'm so sorry, that's awful. No one deserves that."
Another pause, and Tom's voice swept over her like a venom-filled, bitter song. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh, her magic all too aware of his.
"Do you truly believe that, that no one deserves to feel the pain of their, probably well-deserved, punishment? No one deserves cancer, sure, that's an unlucky hand to be dealt, right? But murder, well… I believe it depends on the scenario, don't you think?"
"I don't know, I… I suppose so." Anemone traced the ripples of water in the creek with her mind, going over the right reply. "Bad people should be stopped of their crimes, no matter what it takes to stop them."
Tom merely gazed upon Anemone for a moment, catching the moonlight in her eyes. She was still naïve, like most everyone else. "Are Weasley and the others walking you back?"
"I – yes."
"Then you best be off. I can hear them calling for you."
Sure enough, Anemone hadn't realized it but Dickon and the others were gallivanting their way, drunkenly yelling her name.
"Amy?"
"I think I see her!" pointed Astrid Petersen with excitement, throwing her arm around a girlfriend, Jessica Long.
Tyler Willoughby, another tall and lanky boy was trailing behind the others. Anemone always thought Tyler was kind of attractive, with his ice blue eyes and dark hair. On one of his good days, he could even give Tom a run for his money. He was on the Quidditch team with Dickon, one of the Chasers. He was lean and athletic, kind and chaste – the sort of boy you brought home to mum, and though he was a smart wizard, he was definitely not as intelligent, nor clever as Tom Riddle.
He'd had his eye on Anemone recently too, and Anemone had to wonder if all of this was unfolding because it was nearing the summer, the boys of the castle gearing up for mating season.
This whole lot she chose to wander around with that evening were seventh year Gryffindors and despite their precariousness and penchant for drama, Anemone enjoyed spending time with the motley crew. They could be much more light-hearted than the uptight, anxiety-riddled students of her own house.
And her peers dowsed in green and silver, well, she hardly spent time with any of them. Most of them were ambition-eating, dog eat dog politician types, riffraff or prejudice or all of the above. They didn't really like her, or talk to her anyways, for whatever reason.
The Hufflepuffs were… Hufflepuffs, and most of them were absolutely lovely.
"Hey Amy! We were looking for you," Jess told her, mirthful and laughing in Astrid's arms.
"Are you alright?" Dickon asked, worry gracing his features as he noticed Tom standing by.
"Yes, I-I'm fine. 'Sorry, I just couldn't breathe in there."
"That's alright. Let's all get back so we can head to bed, shall we? C'mon, you lot." Then Weasley turned to Tom out of kindness and inclusion. "You comin' with us, Riddle?"
Tom shook his head, polite. "No, thank you, Weasley. I've got one last thing I need to do tonight."
"Okay. See ya."
Anemone stared at Tom with great interest in her drunken haze as she followed the ensemble away from the docks, thinking about him the whole way down the cobblestoned road that led them to the castle.
The drunk part of herself wanted to go back and snog the ever living daylights out of the smarmy Slytherin. The reasonable part of her brain kept her steadfast on the path to dignity.
But for how long?
When would she break? Anemone knew she were inevitable to fall.
Her name was Anemone Fell, for Merlin's sake.
Yeah, Anemone fell for Riddle, they'd say.
And it just wasn't fair – but nothing ever was. The idea of wanting to give into him still made her hate herself, made her hate him a lot.
But after knowing his father had passed away like hers had, it was almost common ground really. It made him seem more human, for that meant that inside him, Tom Riddle must be hurting too, hurting just as much if not more than she.
She wondered what that last thing he had to do was. It gnawed on her a little bit. Anemone couldn't know for sure if the serpent wasn't up to no good.
Yet he still kept surprising her.
Before Arithmancy class was over on Monday, Tom stood proudly beside Anemone as she sat at the desk and presented her with a captivating and solemn flower in full bloom.
It was crisp white and drooped slightly atop a grassy green stem. "A giant snowdrop," he'd exclaimed quietly and Anemone took the delicate show of affection in her hand. "Exceedingly rare, usually ornamental, but there's a glen of them deep within the forest. It blooms all spring, but this was its last go of it for the remainder of the year."
Anemone's eyes widened, large as saucers. He had really gone into the Forbidden Forest to get her one of these beautiful flowers, at great potential risk to himself?
She was thenceforth unable to take her eyes off of the snowdrop for the rest of the day, and when she got back to Ravenclaw Tower, Anemone placed it into a small vase with water and nutrients. She would admire it for a time on her desk, and before it began to wilt, she would press it between the pages of her journal to keep forever.
All the girls had stared at her carrying around the flower, catching her looking at it with adoration, keeping it tucked gently into the pocket of her plaid blue blazer. Could Anemone have been any more obvious?
Everyone in school knew by now, that Tom and Anemone had a 'thing' going on, whatever this thing was. Anemone hated to admit it, but she liked being given the stupid flower.
It was so damn pretty. Simple, but somehow complex and full of so much poignancy. She never had realized it, but she was now so certain that snowdrops were her favorite.
Anemone wanted to melt into the ground and disappear so that Tom Riddle could never find her.
She wanted to strangle him, to pulverize him with her fists, her claws. He was being so cordial ever since she had spurned him at Slughorn's gathering.
He was pulling a reverse move on her. She had been so mean to him at every turn, her attitude cross and scathing. Still he remained, hypnotizing her with his sweet words and proclamations, seducing her with his casual cool demeanor, his silver tongue and beautiful dark eyes.
What was she supposed to do next? Should she keep ignoring him? Should she just wait to see what happened? Her hormones were raging!
She had no idea how she was surviving as the month of May washed over the castle. Helios sailed over the land with his chariot of warmth and light, the dewy sun of summer looming on the horizon. It was pure unadulterated torture.
- : o : -
Tom no longer had to put images and notions in Anemone's mind, and he hadn't for awhile. He was now, exclusively, the only wizard invading her senses. Tom was all she thought about.
It was that first Thursday in May when the Head Girl announced to Tom and Anemone in the prefect's lounge that she and Daniel Stone were now dating, and that, 'don't worry', they were going to 'keep things professional'.
Literally, nobody cares, Tom thought.
"So that's why, ahem, just for tonight, I'm going to escort Daniel on the Ravenclaw rounds,"
Anemone bristled, unsure how she felt about that. "What?"
"Oh really?" cooed Tom. "Professional indeed,"
"It's not professional at all." Anemone grumbled.
"Oh please, it'll be just this once, just to get it out of our systems," conveyed Asher. "Please, we won't do it again after this,"
Wisely, Daniel Stone did not speak on any of his supposed thoughts, nor plead for Tom's agreement. The boy had been stunned to silence ever since Riddle had subtly threatened him.
Tom exhaled sharply, pinching briefly the bridge of his nose. "Alright, fine. Then how is Miss Fell going to keep herself occupied? We all have our jobs to do, she can't very well attend to your duties, can she?"
"I've finished everything I had to do," the Head Girl quipped snootily. "Why don't you and Fell – "
"You know what," Tom interrupted. "I'm just positive you and Stone aren't going to take care of your responsibilities properly." Marion and Daniel glared with indignance at the Slytherin. "Since you both suffer so terribly from that of the sloth, I think you two should stay here and wait for everyone to sign out. I'm tired of its repetitiveness anyway. You can have your fun after rounds, in your own room, like professionals."
"Ugh," Marion had the audacity to look offended, following Riddle out the door. "Are you sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure," he said, beckoning Anemone to come with him. "Let's go, Fell."
Anemone said nothing more as she left the lounge, falling into step with a mildly quick paced Riddle. "You don't have to walk so fast, you know."
"Yes, well, I don't have all night." He was supposed to go out in the forest to meet with his Knights at midnight, practice some spells and curses.
"Oh." Anemone breathed softly, unused to the more callous side of the Head Boy.
She would have thought getting even a smidgeon of alone time with her would be his perfect fantasy. Had she waited too long now? Was he no longer interested? Was the flower he gave her, was it some sort of twisted goodbye?
No, that was silly. Her mind was on overdrive. Sometimes she hated being a Virgo. Her brain never stopped racing, wondering, planning ahead, deciphering every single outcome, strategy, pros and cons.
Tom was probably just having a bad day. People were entitled to a little frustration every once in a while, and Marion and Daniel had been exceedingly incompetent with their recent attitudes and misbehavior.
And she supposed, after how she'd treated him, Anemone couldn't blame him for being so icy toward her.
Tom knew exactly what she was thinking. He hadn't meant to take his anger out on her just then. He now tried to scale his energy back, reeling in his sourness, his ferocity back inside where it wasn't affecting the environment or the people around him.
"So, Fell," he began after a while, trekking the stairs toward the Astronomy Wing.
"Yes?" Anemone felt she could do nothing but tiptoe around Tom Riddle, observe his every move and be ready for anything.
"Your mother was a witch," he stated, and Anemone nodded.
"Yes, she's from Ireland. 'Went to school here at Hogwarts."
"Did she?" Tom stopped in his tracks, looking both ways at the intersecting corridors. "What house was she – "
"Slytherin, actually,"
"Really?" His silky voice was overly dramatic but fully intrigued, the shock apparent on his features.
Anemone blanched, "What? Why is that so surprising?"
Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Just wondering why it was her daughter didn't follow in her footsteps."
"There's nothing wrong with Ravenclaw,"
"I never said there was,"
"For your information, I love being a Ravenclaw."
"I literally never said – "
"I – I could have been in Slytherin. The hat, it offered, but I was enamored by the blue and bronze. I had a thirst for knowledge and puzzles and my mum always said I was wise for my age,"
Smirk after smirk blossomed onto Tom's mouth. "You know, if given half the chance, you eagles love to swoop in and talk about yourselves."
Anemone huffed haughtily, fully insulted. "Ugh, that is not true!"
He was snickering heartily, "Hmm, sure it isn't."
"Hey, you know, you started up small talk with me!" Anemone screeched. "I would have been absolutely, perfectly fine remaining silent for this entire excursion."
"You even squawk like an eagle,"
Anemone gasped. "That is not nice!"
"I'm never nice."
"No. No. You're. Not."
The amount of times this witch made him roll his eyes, and vice versa, it was astounding.
"What about those couple of galleons in the pub, or when I gave you the snowdrop?" They reached the tower, and they both separated, scouring the circular shaped classroom on the first floor.
Anemone crossed her arms over her chest, her entire body flushing pink. "None of that was nice, that was just… strange and mysterious, like everything you do." It was dark, dimly lit, and there was not a soul in sight save for them and the distant, flagrant wailing of Peeves from somewhere beyond which they both desperately ignored.
"Odd. I happen to know for a fact you thought those gestures were kind."
"Oh really? And how do you just happen to know I thought so?"
"I just do." He replied, brimming with confidence, but he couldn't let her on to his innate talent for Legilimency. "It was easy to tell."
"And I'm so easy to read then, am I?"
They met again in the center of the room, Tom reigning tall above her. He smelled so damned good, she had to look anywhere else, had to step away from him. "Everyone is."
"And you're just so bloody perfect." Anemone spat, fueled by hatred, maybe a bit of jealousy.
"Yeah," he purred, breathing through his nose. "So bloody, perfectly infatuated with you."
The swoon that overcame her was all too real.
Anemone froze, slowly turning back around but still unable to hold his gaze. Every time she met his riptide eyes, those dark, rushing pools, she was carried further and further away from herself.
"Why?"
Tom scoffed, jetting for the stairs and Anemone followed after like a lost kitten. "You know why. I've told you." They went up to the top floor, out into the brisk open air.
"What, just because of my looks? How could you think that's good enough – "
"It's not," he interjected. "Not for a girl like you. I always knew that."
"A girl like me?"
Tom ran a jittery hand through his thick, black locks. "Yes, you know, you have standards, and hold yourself up high, to a degree. You know how to say 'no', you have your own mind. You don't jump at the chance to allow yourself to be vulnerable to just anyone, and that is very admirable. I do the same, as should anyone with real intelligence."
Anemone's fingers twitched, fidgeting compulsively. She did not know what to do with herself.
That had been the most honest, and unsexual thing Tom had ever said to and about her.
She could have sworn she'd just seen a pig fly in the corner of her eye. Anemone looked over briefly at the moving painting adorning the wall of the astronomy room, the only picture that was not a diagram or chart.
Believe it or not, it was a depiction of a few happy pigs with angel wings, flying through the clouds and constellations in a purply blue sky.
She laughed, and she was unsure why but it caused Tom to smile softly, authentically.
Something strange came over her, a warmth seeping into her bones. The stars were beautiful, he was beautiful, this moment could be beautiful.
Anemone, her body moving on its own, sashayed close to Tom. His chest rose and fell, she could feel his unsteady, tea-filled breath fanning over her, smell the lemongrass of his soap, his boyish pheromones.
"If it turns out that pigs can fly," she latched her fingers into his, their hips brushing against each other. "I'll let you kiss me."
Tom's eyes snapped toward the painting she'd been chuckling at, studying it for a second. His heavily lidded stare sparkled deviously.
Suddenly, Tom's breath was mingling with hers, his lips drawing close and Anemone gasped for air. Her eyes closed, bracing herself for the bond of their mouths.
But it never came.
Instead, Tom embraced her, his arms encircling her entire frame, squeezing her tightly, his expression wry. "You don't know what you want."
He said it as if it were fact, but Anemone did know what she wanted. She just wasn't ready to feel it.
A little nagging voice had been telling her she didn't have all year, all summer. She only had mere weeks left before their time at Hogwarts was up. There was no way a wizard like him would wait forever. Tom was young and sexual, like most boys his age. Eventually, he was going to find someone to release his tension with.
Anemone couldn't let it be with anyone else. She would just die.
"You're just not ready." He added. His gaze, though still penetrating, was gentle.
"I could be."
Tom shook his head, still holding her hand as he led them back down the stairs.
Anemone could not believe how understanding and considerate he was being. Had he always been like this deep inside, or was he only just like this now? Was it all an act? It couldn't be, it just couldn't.
They walked back to the prefect's lounge, side by side and hand in hand. It was making Anemone melt into pudding on the inside. Holding hands was something mainly only couples did!
He did not let go of her as they returned to Stone and the Head Girl, proudly demonstrating his affection as straightforward a manner as he could, right in front of one of the reigning queens of Hogwarts gossip.
Marion Asher's mouth hung ajar as they approached the desk where finally, Tom released Anemone's hand. Handsome and smug, the Head Boy etched his signature along the timestamp. "I presume you'll have a most splendid evening, Asher, Stone," he swirled around to make his exit, not even looking back.
Anemone scrambled up the quill clumsily, dipping it in ink and signing her name beneath Tom's before racing after him. She hadn't even bothered to say goodnight to Marion, nor Daniel, the Slytherin the one and only thing on her mind.
Down the corridor she flew, gaining on him. How in Merlin's name did he get so far, so quickly, those long legs of his.
"Wait," she said, voice broken and pathetic, and Tom whirred back in a bolt of lightning, pressing her up against the wall in the dark. Impassioned, his hands cradled her jaw, her neck, his long thumbs and fingers grazing firmly, yet so softly along her skin.
She really thought he was going to kiss her this time, but then he murmured, "You have no idea how hard it is for me to hold back." His knee found its way between her thighs and instinctively, Anemone's hands fisted the material of his uniform. "I want to kiss you senseless every time you open your mouth, sometimes just to make you stop talking. Other times because I love to watch you when you do talk, and you don't talk near enough, not to me."
"Mmm, Tom," Anemone sighed, unable to deny that she liked what he was saying.
"I think I might enjoy everything about you."
"But you don't even really know me," she countered timidly and Tom slowly, reluctantly released her from his trap.
"Oh, I know, and I hope to change that."
"How will you do that, might I ask?" She questioned, sass on her tongue. It wasn't as if he was going to ask her to be his –
"Be my girlfriend,"
Anemone faltered. "What?"
"Yeah, you heard me. Why not? Just 'til the end of the year,"
"Just 'til the – just 'til the end of the year? Do you hear yourself? That's – why, that's basically just asking me to be your, your mistress until the year is over."
Tom growled, clenching a fist around her cloak and reeling her back into his chiseled frame. "Fine, then be my actual girlfriend. For real."
"No! I won't. You're ridiculous," Anemone seethed, both of them ferocious, teeth bared.
"Will you two be more professional," a haughty Marion Asher spewed as her and Daniel Stone marched by. Tom and Anemone hastily but casually stepped away from each other. "I mean, seriously, Riddle. You have your own room, don't you?"
For once, Tom had nothing to say as he took that moment to erase himself from this situation.
Anemone stared after him, angry but upset with herself. She didn't want to ruin things with Tom, but he still wasn't proving himself to her.
So what, he only wanted to date her to get underneath her skirt, was that it?
The nerve of him.
Yet however still, she could not scrub him from her mind, could not refrain from admiring the giant snowdrop flower every time she entered her room.
There was something about Tom Riddle; she couldn't help but fall madly, deeply.
Anemone burned for him just as much as he claimed he burned for her. It was pure agony, she found she no longer wanted to be apart from him; wanted to feel him press up against her again, his hands on her, his whispers of lust and longing.
She did not know how she were to go on.
- : o : -
AN: I'm running for mayor of horny jail, vote for me xx