RIDDLE. DISCONTINUED

➹ chapter twenty five

25 | colors

WALKING WITH TOM RIDDLE while dressed up in such a nice attire brought to Merope the kind of bliss one would expect from being with a very famous and very handsome celebrity. Her fingers, wrapped against his muscle, seemed to burn in every spot of skin that came in contact with the fabric of his suit. In some odd way, the echo produced by their footsteps against the hard stone floor was of some calming nature to her, so much that it resonated through her mind as a lullaby.

Merope was, in that moment, a very happy woman.

Indeed, she had not been expecting his romantic choice of words -- especially considering how he lacked in any sweet talking when it came to her. Still, for that night, nothing would matter to her; any and all problems would be left behind. No over thinking. It would all be fine and dandy, she would dance with Tom and they would enjoy themselves like normal teenagers do.

For those few hours, they would be normal. No matter what.

And all of those expectations were probably the reason why she had gotten so upset when bit by bit, all of her hopes had crumbled down right in front of her eyes. The chain of misfortunes had began bitter but simple -- barely worth much mention.

They were still on their walk towards the Great Hall -- where Slughorn had managed to convince Headmaster Dipped of throwing his party. Tom had switched their positions, setting his hand on her lower back which earned the rise of a rosy blush to Merope's cheeks. They made minor small talk, but it was so rare and had such prolonged silences that they were obviously unsettled when a third voice broke the peace.

Peeves, the school's poltergeist, hovered around their heads, shouting so loud in his sing-song tone that the Slytherins inside the dungeons would have been able to hear it. "Silly Slughorn planning a party to all of his pretty students! What great news, giving me something to have fun in. But you forgot to invite me, and you made me mad. Now you should all be carefully with your pretty heads."

"Bloody Merlin, piss off, Peeves!" Tom replied angrily, leaving Merope with a blank stare while cautiously eyeing the creature's form, retreating from where it stood.

"Thomas," she said, her lips distorting in a frown, "do you reckon he is serious?"

"No, he mustn't be." But he didn't sound so sure.

Upon approaching the large set of doors they had been directed to, her mind had already been cleared out. They stepped confidently into the room, and every inch of worry had washed away when numerous eyes gleaming with admiration were set upon her. All but maybe Mary, who she had spotted immediately after entering, sitting alone by one of the dining round tables. She wore a knees length, puffy yellow dress, which fit her straightened her quite well. Even Merope would admit that she looked good.

She scanned the room, studying its lively decorations -- a combination of pastel coloured tables and ribbons, loads of chocolate (eggs, bunnies, fountains) and a large dancefloor. She continued to glance around, only to settle on a very familiar group.

Celeste waved very briefly at the pair, who was standing by one of the huge eggs along with Rupert, Tobias and Abraxas, all boys as finely dressed as she was.