Bloodsucker ; T.R

³ Deux casse-tête

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The common room was quiet, only the burning of wood in the fireplace could be heard.

Tom sat alone on the couch, his robes and sweater long discarded on the opposite side of the sofa. Thoughts swirled in his head, there never seemed to be a moment where he wasn't thinking about anything. On some nights it drove him mad, on occasion he appreciated the noise. This was one of those occasions.

After they arrived in the dungeons, Tom called Matthew to the side to talk to him, away from the other students and from the rest of the knights.

"What is your relation to the Lavigne girl?"

Matthew took off his robes while replying. "Well, it's not common knowledge if you're not within the family circle, but we're cousins. The Lestranges go all the way back and married into the roots of the Lavignes. We originated in France but later migrated in England to be closer with other family members, Black, Rosier, Malfoy, Lupin, and Tonks."

Riddle furrowed his brows. "Why hadn't any of you inform me of this?" his voice rung low.

The Lavigne family was secretive, for they had practiced dark magic from different parts of the world. A family as well-respected as them can never be seen performing such atrocious acts of magic. Therefore they could only trust those closest to them. That is why the children were kept away from prying eyes.

The other boy straightened his posture. "As I said, not many besides family knows. But now that she's here, I suppose anyone who asks could know." Lestrange walked towards the entrance of their dormitory.

"Tell the others we will meet tomorrow."

And with that, he nodded and walked away, leaving Tom in silence.

Sleep was one of the little things Riddle had trouble getting. To substitute this, he read books just about anything. Naturally, he favoured ones that dabbled in dark magic. Ever since he knew he was a wizard, he craved all the knowledge that he needed in order to become a powerful one. A wizard that people feared the name of.

If only he could learn more about his family lineage.

The sounds of bare feet on stone interrupted his thoughts. He faced where the sound came from, cobalt eyes met with umber. There stood the girl that ignited the interest of the entire student campus, dressed in a white nightgown that almost reached the ground. Ivory looked at him in slight surprise, it was deep into the night and she didn't expect anyone to be up and awake.

"What are you doing up this late miss Lavigne?" Tom asked, puffing out the smoke he accumulated from the cigarette.

Ivory walked towards him. "I could ask you the same thing, Mr...?" her voice trailed off, an unspoken question of his name.

Again, he showed off his charming smile. He stood up to meet her eye level, only for her look up at him when he did so.

"My apologies, where are my manners," he chuckled, extending a hand towards her. "My name is Tom Riddle."

She looked at his hand and back at his eyes. "Well, Tom Riddle, I suppose you already know me?" Ivory stepped past him and went to sit where he was sitting moments before.

Resisting the urge to scowl at how she ignored his attempt at a handshake, he turned around to face her again, finding that she now took his seat. Has she not been taught manners?

"Well, yes. The whole world practically knows you," They too shall know him, "It is just now that some of us have finally got the chance to put a face to the name." he stated sitting down across her to where his cloak rested.

"I suppose so." Ivory leaned back, looking into the crackling fire. This was the boy who attempted to enter her mind, she remembered.

"You haven't answered my question, Lavigne."

"I don't get sleep easily, Riddle. You haven't answered mine."

"That makes the two of us then," he threw out the last bit of cigarette into the burning flames.

It was quiet, none of them spoke for a while. Both thinking about the other. One thinking about the strange actions of a certain wizard, the other thinking about what the witch in front holds close to.

"Tell me, Riddle. Why did you attempt to read my mind back at dinner?" Ivory broke the silence, still not taking her eyes off of the flames.

So he was right, she was an occlumence. He looked at her relaxed figure. The flickering orange hues of the fireplace seemed to only accentuate her features. Girls at Hogwarts were already getting too boring to look at, this was a surprising change of scenery.

"What ever are you talking about Lavigne? I have no recollection of trying to do such a thing," the lie effortlessly formed on his lips.

Ivory scoffed, finally looking at him. His black curls were slightly dishevelled, strands falling on his forehead just above his eyes. The tie no longer met to a knot but just rested around his shoulders. She supposed Tom was one of the few wizards she met that looked effortlessly handsome.

Standing up to get closer by the fire, Ivory spoke again, "Do you take me for a fool, Tom?" her tone of voice no longer friendly, now instead replaced with a malevolent one.

"I respect you for committing to that lie, though offended that you think I wouldn't see past it."

Now it was Tom's turn to scoff. "My my, your first day here and you're already running around assuming different things about people?"

When she was young, Ivory wasn't allowed to do many things. In all honesty, she wasn't allowed to do anything at all. Not unless she was told to do so by her mother. Because of this, she observed in her spare time. She learned to look closely at people, picking up hints and clues about their character. Her father's scarred hands from the wounds obtained from combat. Her mother's slightly tainted teeth from all the wine she has consumed. The bruised and shallow scratches her brother had from all the dragon handling in their backyard. Every tiny detail speaks volumes to a person, this is what she learned. So when she spotted bloodstains from the nails and rings of her father's friend, she knew that he was someone violent.

"Your collar shows no filth, not even sweat stains. This tells me you take good care of your uniform, that you want to appear neat and composed. Students did not attempt to converse with you from what I saw at dinner, so you're either adored or abhorred."

Ivory turned to look at him. "The former would be more likely, the perfect poster child. I suppose that's why you have that badge too."

Tom looked where she was hinting. His prefect badge glinting in the fireplace's flames.

"Your shoes being spotless despite the muddy walk and your pristine well-made tie are little things that are too perfect. Seems like minor factors someone controlling would do. That is why I know that you, Tom, aren't so pure despite the need to appear as such." Ivory finished her sentence, heading closer to the doorway.

"So you have been staring at me?"

"No, not quite. Observing is more like it," a smirk formed on her rosy heart-shaped lips. "So am I in the wrong for... assuming in your ability?"

Tom stood up, now with his cloak and sweater in hand. Truly, the witch in front of him is like a puzzle, taunting to be put together by someone capable. "With that argument, I guess not, Ivory," her name sounded foreign to his lips, mirroring the smirk she had.

Slowly, she walked backwards and into the passageway, opening the door of their common room. "I'll see you tomorrow in class Riddle." Ivory said, slipping outside.

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Tom stood alone once again, his thoughts still running about the mysterious witch.
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