butterfly effect, tom riddle

15. | past

Tom and I worked relentlessly on our project—everyday after classes, we poured the vials of our Befuddlement Draught into our cauldron and examined the liquid carefully, writing down notes and observations into a tiny notebook. Our report on the potion was nearly completed on Wednesday, and we met up for the last time on Thursday to add some last notes and finishing touches.

"This was actually sort of fun," I admitted, tucking a stray wisp of light blonde hair behind my ear as I watched Tom scan our nearly completed report with furrowed brows.

We sat in the library, Tom's head bent over the scroll of parchment intently while I simply watched, uncertain of what to do. He seemed to prefer to do the work on his own—and he did exceptionally well, too—so it was rather difficult to find any way to aid him.

"This is a school project, it's not supposed to be fun," Tom retorted coldly, his eyes leaving the parchment for only a second as he met my gaze.

"You're a ray of sunshine, truly," I muttered sarcastically, evoking an eye roll from the dark-haired boy next to me. I peeked at the piece of parchment he was leaning over. "Maybe I should help as well?"

Tom sighed and shook his head in plain exasperation, shooting a stern, reproving glare in my direction.

"I don't need your help," he snapped, annoyance dripping from his voice like venom.

"This is a project that we were both assigned to," I reminded him. "I'm not just your assistant or something, I'm your partner."

"You're a rather irksome partner," Tom grumbled, before reluctantly turning the parchment over so I could have a look at it.

My lips stretched into a small smile as I scooted closer to the table, my eyes skimming through the paper rigorously.

"You forgot to add the physical description of the potion," I pointed out. "It's deep green in color, murky, with a smooth texture."

Tom's eyes hardened as he glanced down at the piece of parchment to see that he had, indeed, left out the physical description of the potion—perhaps the most significant detail in our report. With knitted brows, he copied down my words, his writing remarkably neat.

"Your handwriting is really nice," I marveled, amazed by the fact that a boy could write so beautifully.

Other than the slight twitching of his lips, there was no sign at all that Tom had heard me; he continued to scan the report attentively, not glancing up for even a second.

We continued to work in near silence, only speaking up when we noticed a fault in our report, or had an idea. We were so focused on our work, however, that we completely lost track of time—in what seemed like no time at all, darkness had blanketed the vast library.

"The library is closing!" I heard Madame Shaw screech, her unpleasant voice reminding me of nails scratching a chalkboard. "Whoever's left in there, get out!"

I glanced out of one of the narrow windows of the library in surprise, stunned by the fact that the place was already closing.

"I didn't even notice it got dark," I commented, helping Tom pack up.

The only response I received from the raven-haired boy was silence, but it didn't bother me much; I was already quite used to his monotonous way of acting.

We silently made our way through the library, feeling Madame Shaw's skeptical eyes glued to our backs the entire time. The castle grounds were bathed in moonlight, and it was so unusually quiet you could probably hear a pin drop. The hallways were scarce of any students—other than the two of us, of course.