poison ivy; tom riddle

xvi | lily

I get to my room after dinner and that peculiar chat with Professor Dumbledore to find that you left me a note.

Meet me in my dorm at 22:00, TR x

It's adorable that you left a note even though we just had dinner together.

I can practically feel the roses blooming through my heart. Pumping your love around my body that belongs to you and only you.

You see, Dumbledore doesn't have a clue about the love we share.

I didn't tell you about the conversation.

I'm worried you may get angry. That it will upset you.

Or that you might think I believe it.

That I believe that our love isn't genuine.

That I might 'come to my senses' as Olive would say.

That I believe our love is fake.

Fabricated.

Faux.

A barren land of nothingness, sand of lifeless soil. In a world where nothing grows, nothing can bloom into glowing peonies or roses or carnations. A world of dreary sediment, sunless skies, bitter air.

A world where our love doesn't prevail.

I don't like thinking about it.

I don't know how I survived before you.

The silk of my slip skims my body like water as it falls over me.

You like this one because it's green.

Not a dark green like our Slytherin robes, no, that colour would wash me out.

A much lighter green.

One that might be compared to sage.

I caress the lace upon the neckline, just about grazing my collarbones.

I trail my fingers along the fabric, feeling the friction spark upon the tips until I reach the hem cutting off at the very tops of my thighs.

I wear nothing underneath.

You prefer it that way.

I look into the mirror, gazing at the purple under my skin.

There's a spell for getting rid of this.

I jog towards my wardrobe and pull out a large, leather-bound book that I haven't touched since second year.

I flick through the thick, browning pages looking for a spell that might conceal-

I find one, especially for bruises that I remember using the first time I needed to.

I can't remember why I stopped using it.

I place my wand to my skin, pressing into the speckles of purple so it stings slightly and mutter the incantation watching a glowing purple weave under my skin.

I feel scratching at first, like a needle pricking at my skin. The scratch worsens and it feels like a thousand needles are stabbing me repeatedly. As if they were swimming through my veins and plucking the bruise from my skin.

I feel the needles swim through my body as if they were searching for any blemish and sucking it from my skin.

I love this, this is amazing.

However, I feel like I've been injected with lava and I am being forced to throw it all back up.

I now remember why I stopped using it.

I feel the burning swim through my thorax, clinging to my throat, burning through until I cough up scorching scarlet blood.

I watch it pool onto the cobblestone floors, painting the dark grey with a deep red.

I feel the burning start to dissipate with each cough. I press my hands on my dress trying to shield it from splatters.

I look in the mirror again, admiring the evenness of my skin. I think it is the first time since I last used the spell that I have seen myself without marks.

I hope you love me like this.