𝕬 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |

Chapter 41- Too Late

"If you give me your heart, I'll give you mine..."

"Huh?"

Tom was in a muddled, mind-numbing confusion, and she wasn't making proper sense. He was right to be puzzled by this strange situation. For some reason, he was sitting in a completely blank space with only one other person. A bright girl with hazel brown hair. You-Know-Who. However, the reason why he was there was not what was so befuddling to him. His thoughts lingered desperately on her words. What exactly did she mean by that? She wasn't making any sense, but at least this time she wasn't dead.

However, what she meant became quite apparent, when she stuck her hand into her chest and slowly pulled out her heart. Thankfully, it wasn't a pumping bloody valve of horror, like Tom expected it to logically be. It was a shiny, opalescent, heart-shaped crystal. She gestured for him to do the same and, strangely enough, he obeyed her illogical idea. Unlike hers, his was noir black, disfigured and scratched. It was an ugly, pitiful looking thing. It looked almost exactly like the ring he had stolen from his uncle. What did he do to make it like that? Oh well. He disregarded his sins immediately. The state of his heart wasn't what really mattered right now. To his understanding, she was purposing a trade, which he felt quite eager to accept. He wanted her heart. She took the small dark crystal from his hand and left her pure glistening white one in his palms. She placed his heart to her chest and in a split second it was being absorbed inside of her. Tom stared memorized at her heart but would not even think of doing the same. It was too beautiful. He could see his reflection on the glistening surface. His eyes were a horrifying red that went far beyond bloodshot. Suddenly, before Tom could even begin to think logically, she let out a loud phlegmy death hack. She started coughing up blood. Her eyes were replaced with a similar red that seemed to match his. He could see she was in so much pain, yet he simply sat there clenching her heart. It was warm and fluttering like a small bird. Even though it cost the girl so much pain he didn't want to give it back. He wouldn't give it up. Not to her, not to anyone.

Tom woke up in Slytherin dorms, just like any other morning. He had been having these kinds of horrid dreams all the time now, practically ever since he'd made the decision to tell her. They seemed to be a strange omen trying to convince him it was not the right idea, but naturally he decided to ignore them. It was not like the dreams had anything to do with reality. He didn't really have red eyes and she wasn't some dainty angelic creature who would think to make such a rotten deal. She was smarter than that. Tom's mind simply made up these silly things because it wasn't being put to use. It was the stress of feelings being bottled up over time. He needed to tell her soon before it got too much more out of hand. Tom glanced at the time, thinking he'd woke up at the usual hour, only to discover he was at least an hour late. His roommates were already filtering back in from breakfast and discussing what they were going to do with their day off.

Shit! I'm late...

Tom slightly scrambled to get ready. Today was Sunday and hopefully he would be able to get out one simple sentence without getting interrupted. Oh yes, he'd already had over a dozen chances to tell Frankie how he felt about her over the past few months. Despite the orphanage being the only place they could be somewhat alone, Tom had decided to tell her once they were back at Hogwarts. It would mean more if they were truly home, and the outcome had a higher probability of being favorable. However, every time Tom tried to confess, he always seemed to be interrupted by something. The Gryffindors especially loved getting in his way. Whether it was the girls pulling her away for petty gossip sessions, or it was hunting for Flobber Worms in the gamekeeper's garden with the boys, they never seemed to give him a secluded moment with her. It happened so often; he was starting to think they were all doing it on purpose.

"Where are you headed off to in such a hurry, Tom?" Lestrange asked, watching as Tom suspiciously jetted for the door. Tom didn't run for anything. Everyone knew that. He was also stupidly unaware that this wasn't the first time Tom was trying to disappear on a Sunday.