Rosalie ⎮ Tom Riddle

Twenty Four

Father

  Tom dropped Rosalie's bag on the floor with a heavy thud, a look of frustration crossing his features as Rosalie knelt down to begin unpacking. He remained where he stood, watching as she unfolded her belongings and sat on her knees.

  "Are you going to stand there all day? If you're not going to help me, go grab your own things," Rosalie remarked without looking up, inspecting one of her nightgowns for wrinkles.

  Tom furrowed his eyebrows, feeling a mixture of annoyance and affection towards her. "I'm not quite sure why you're bothering to put your stuff in this room. You'll be sleeping with me every night from now on," he stated matter-of-factly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  Rosalie smiled and raised an eyebrow playfully, still focused on her task. "Oh?" she teased, folding one of her dresses on her lap. Tom tried to catch her gaze, but she continued to avoid his eyes.

  "And who decreed that?" she asked, her tone light and playful.

  Finally relenting, Tom sat down at her level, meeting her eyes with a darkened gaze. "It's not as if you don't want to, love," he said, his charming smile making an appearance.

  But Rosalie, unfazed by his attempts to charm her, met his gaze with a soft smirk.

  "Though it's rather tempting, I doubt Headmaster Dippet would be pleased if he heard about such an arrangement," she quipped, the playful banter between them building their own tension that grew every day.

  "Somehow I figure that it won't matter. We're rather good at keeping secrets love."

  Rosalie didn't dare respond to that, and now she refused to even look at him when he met her at eye level. She looked down to her clothes, carefully folding and rolling. Tom watched her hands, his smirk unafraid to remain.

  He tutted when all he was met with was silence, Tom scanned over her face one last time before standing up again. The sound of his footsteps slowly retreated to the door.

  "I'll go grab the rest of you things, though I think I'll be putting them in our room."

  "Your room, Tommy," She chimed, finding a fair amount of amusement in the conversation at present. She thought, perhaps this was what it was like to have a normal moment with Tom.

  "Our room, Rosie." He chimed back, looking back shortly before walking out of Rosalie's eyesight. She stifled back a laugh at his sudden humour.

  After a few moments of unpacking, Rosalie stood up with a pile of clothes in her arms and walked over to her wardrobe, placing each item back one by one. As she reached for the rest of the clothes in her bag, she felt a strange sensation wash over her—a weightlessness that made her feel as though she were floating.

  Before she could comprehend what was happening, a blinding white light enveloped her, and her body began to contort and spin through space. Suddenly, the motion ceased, and she found herself surrounded by laughter and warmth, the dim lighting of a restaurant filling her senses.

---

  "She brought everything she owns with her," Tom remarked as he effortlessly levitated Rosalie's bags through the air, guiding them towards her room with a flick of his hand.

  Ben, following behind with a few more bags, responded with a bored tone, "Get used to it if you want to keep her."

  "Keep her? You make her sound like a pet," Tom retorted with a scoff.

  "I mean no offence, my lord," Ben quickly clarified, his tone deferential.

  Ignoring the comment, Tom continued down the corridor towards Rosalie's room, the door left wide open. However, upon entering, they found it empty, with no sign of Rosalie in sight.