GOD KILLERS. Tom Riddle

09. Letters to home

Dear mother,

As per our agreement, I would write letters to you about my time at Hogwarts. Mainly to please you into keeping yours and fathers consciences clean.

Clean of what I had done.

It was an accident, as I have said, but father will never believe me, will he?

I've told him over and over, as I know you have too, that it was purely an accident. My heart still aches for Marina, my heart still heavy with guilt.

I hope you try to make him understand, I miss him dearly.

(He smirked lightly, the only person to see through his persona would be the man who everyone else deemed crazy — no one believed him, it made August laugh gleefully, almost giving into the madness that corrupted him)

Asides from that, I have made friends with a group of boys, I feel strongly enough to say these are my friends.

I believe Tom, the Riddle boy, to be my most dearest friend out of them all. He evades my mind more often than I would want him to — like a rot. Rotting to my very core. But I don't mind it. Not how I used to anyway.

He and I share something, but I can't tell what it is just yet.

(Madness? August thought casually, it seemed the most plausible. )

I'm doing well in classes, Slughorn believes me to be a future potions master. More excitedly, he is giving me extra lessons with Master Toussaint, he teaches Necromancy for those deemed worthy enough.

I'm quite thankful to be thought of.

I hope you're well, I miss you terribly.

Yours dearest,
Augustine.

....

He folded it neatly, smoothing it down before a sigh escaped his lips. It was exhausting pretending to be what his mother thought he was; a boy broken up over the death of his sweet girlfriend.

Then, when it was folded to Augusts liking, he placed it into his cupboard. Locking it away for good. Never to see the light of day again.

It was the only way August could express his emotions, by writing them down it helped him. Though he would never own a diary, deeming it to be a girls object, instead he feigned correspondence with his mother so that if someone were to see his letters, he could tell them they were for his mother, but he must've forgotten to send them.

It was easier than actually telling his mother of his real life. Instead, she would get the half done attempt at telling her of his classes. But he'd rather tell her what what really went on. To make her cringe with disappointment.

Telling her how he'd enjoyed the whole act of killing, how jealousy had become his closest friend. And how Tom Riddle had occupied his mind in a way he wanted to hold onto. Like a captive to him, and he wanted to be his kidnappee for the rest of his life if he could.

It unnerved him. Just like everything about him did.

....

"Fuck marry kill; Flick Lovegood, Juno Baptise and Henrietta Dubois," Reinhardt announced to the group as they lounge on the floor of their dormitory.

"Fuck Flick obviously," Bunny replied from his seat, head bent backwards resting on his bed.

"why on earth would you fuck Flick?" Abraxas shot back slightly irritated, August would've too if someone had said that about his own close cousin.

August lifted his head up from where he lay on his stomach on top of his bed. He stares at the way Bunny swallows his drink, his Adam's apple sharp, bobbing upwards, looking away quickly, his gaze returns to his work. His parchment lying in front of him discarded, a Herbology paper due tomorrow.

"Why not? She's well weird, d'you think if I fucked her hard enough she'd start spewing prophecies or something?" Bunny replied lewdly, a smirk plastered to his face as his eyes drift off dreamily.

August scoffs at Bunny's lewd comments, but it isn't surprising, "isn't she with Harkness? Jasper is it?" That's what August had heard, though he'd also heard she was with one of the knights, but he never seemed to see Theo at all.

"Why do you care?" Abraxas asked raising a brow. A venomous smirk grew on his face, "do you want him or something? We all know you go that way,"

August grew hot, feeling heat rise to his cheeks he tried to avoid eye contact. "excuse me?"

Abraxas smirked, "you heard me, oh Tom, isn't that what you write in those little letters of yours?"

Augusts face faltered, his skin pale.

"Oh Tom! I think I'm in lo-" but Abraxas doesn't have the time to finish his sentence as August lunged forwards, his hands outstretched.

His hands find their place right around his throat, Abraxas' blue eyes bulged out of his head and his back landed onto the rug with a loud thud. August smiled at the sight as he straddles him, his grip tightening.

His stare wide and blown out as he looked down on him, his scared face, his heavy breathing.

The other boys just sat back and watched. He could hear Bunny yells with delight. August could've sworn Bunny told the brunette to kill him, but maybe that was just the adrenaline clouding his mind.

"I don't. . I don't," he muttered but the words died in his throat, leaving an acidic taste on his tongue. Because it was true, sort of anyway. He didn't know what he was feeling for Tom, but it was certainly on the line of love, but he didn't want to admit it, and he could see Abraxas was thinking the same thing. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Please don't kill each other," a voice sounded the dormitory, causing August to look up, and loosen grip on the other boy.

"We have Slughorn's annual party soon," in a bored drawl, Tom stood against the doorway, leaning as casually as one does when seeing friends fight. "And I'd hate to see you ruining each others pretty faces so soon."

August nodded, feeling embarrassed, not at the scene, more at Tom's comment. Pretty faces, he thought as he lifted himself off of Abraxas, the blonde rubbed his throat gingerly.

"They were right, you are a fucking psycho." Abraxas choked out, his hand still on his neck, as if August would lunge again, which he would if he was feeling particularly active, which he wasn't.

August didn't reply, instead his eyes landed the way Tom stared at him. As if Tom had finally seen him in a new light, a new light that should've terrified him.

But as August stared on, the look on Tom's face wasn't fear. It was something else entirely.

He hoped it was pride.