Abigail's Riddle (HP fanfic)

7: The Rose

        Olive has become something like a best friend to me in the past month.  I hadn’t been previously aware that one could get so absolutely annoyed with a best friend.  She never stops talking about Tom, and when she does, she often babbles about her own drama.  It is most annoying, and at times I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off with Myrtle.  She, at least, would get a hint.  This must be the fourth time this week that I’ve stormed away when she got too insistent about my love of Tom.

        “Abigail?” a quiet, unsure voice says from behind me.

        I turn and see none other than Tom Riddle.  Unsure, his white cheeks are a pale pink.  His always neat hair is parted to the left like always, but somehow neater.  His black eyes wander everywhere in the room but to me.

        What concerns me most about his appearance is the fact that there, in his white pale hand, he twirls a pale pink rose; a rose the same color as his cheeks; a rose that his eyes keep skittering to.

        My heart beats a thousand kilometers a minute, and I take a deep breath.  You don’t like Tom.  You don’t like Tom.  That flower couldn’t possibly me for you.  He’s your best friend.  Don’t be stupid, Abigail.  Don’t. Be. Stupid.

        “Hi,” I say breathlessly.

        “I-I was looking for you.  I saw you storm out of the library.  I-I was worried about you.”

        All this stuttering isn’t normal for him.  Neither are the pale pink cheeks. 

        “Don’t be.  I’m perfectly fine.”

        We awkwardly stand across from each other, both of us eyeing the beautiful flower in his hands.  Never before had I felt awkward with Tom.  Could it possibly be me causing this atmosphere?  After all, the chances are slim to none that the rose was for me.  I should smile and tell him a joke, and everything will be fine.

        “So, are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” he asks me finally, raising his eyes to meet mine.

        “Yes.”

        “Maybe we could both go.  I know you’ve never had Butterbeer, and I’ve love to show you the best place to get it.  Maybe we could even check out Zonko’s Joke Shop.  It’s just opened, and I heard that there’s candies that can make you sound like an elephant.  There’s nobody I would rather go with,” he says in a rush, his eyes tracing the elegant pictures surrounding us.  A few of the female portraits around us have broken out into squeals, misinterpreting his actions.  Of course, he only wants to go as friends. 

        Clearly, my brain doesn’t believe the thought that has danced across it.  If it had, then it wouldn’t utter the most absolutely stupid thing that rushes through my throat.  I can’t control the lie that escapes my lips.  I don’t understand why it comes, or why I can’t stop myself.  Before I can fully understand what’s happening, I’m saying, “Actually, I already have plans.  Me and Olive were going to check out some brooms.”  The lie is so clear, so honest, that even I can barely detect the fib.

        “Oh.”

        The silence that follows is even more awkward.  The flower slips through his fingers and topples to the ground.  Its delicates petals crush against the floor.  A single petal tears from it, dancing closer to my feet.  I force myself not to bend down and pick it up.

        “Well…I’ll be going, then.”

        “Tom!” I shout, racing after him.

        He stops, but doesn’t turn.  I place my hand on his shoulder, and spin him around to face me.

        “I lied.  I don’t know why, but I did.  Yes, I want to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

        “Not...I didn’t mean it that way, Abigail.  I really didn’t want to make things awkward.  We’re friends, right?” he assures me.  Maybe the bright pink in my cheeks, the way I eyed that rose, has given me away.  Could he detect that I’m actually infatuated with him?  Is there any way he could notice the way I stare after him a second longer than I should?

        “That’s all I meant, Tom.”

        “Well, I have to get down to the common room.  I’ve been enrolled in a chess tournament.”

        I smile.  Tom never fails to beat me at chess games.  Although I’m better than most, he is the one person who always beats me.  It’s quite frustrating.  “You’ll win.”

        “I know,” he says with that quiet little smile of his.

        “I wish I could come with you.”

        “What if—” Tom starts, but then shakes his head.  “Never mind.”

        “What if what, Tom?”

        “Forget I said anything, Abigail.  I’ll see you tomorrow after breakfast, alright?”

        “Of course,” I agree, dropping it.  I turn away and start to ascend the stairs.

        “Abigail?” he says quietly again.  I turn to meet him, my heart racing.  “Good night.”

        I echo him, and return to ascending the stairs until he’s out of sight.  The moment he’s gone, I rush back down the enchanted staircase.  Looking around me, grateful nobody’s around, I see the flower’s still in place.  I pick up the rose and hold it close to my chest.

        When I get to my room, I press it firmly between the pages of an old, unused diary of mine.  That way, I’ll have it forever.