Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Twenty Three

Something happened to her then that hadn't happened in a long time, she cracked, the memory rushing forward almost painfully.

She remembered how his grip on her arm was so tight it hurt. How she yanked her arm out of his hold, only resulting in her falling to the ground. She recalled scrambling away from him as he stalked towards her slowly, like an animal going in for the kill. Delilah remembered screaming and then- she paled.

He had used legilimency on her.

Relief at Tom not finding anything of particular use was clouded by her fury. Then she remembered the pain, and the blood. Blood was everywhere, filling her lungs and clouding her vision in a mess of crimson tears.

"How dare you."

She spoke slowly, her voice shaking only slightly.

Tom knew this would happen at some point, but it didn't mean he was ready. He's never seen her this... he didn't even know. Was emotional the right word? She looked like she was going to rain fire on whatever she set her eyes on. All just to kill him

And she just might try, considering she's used the killing curse before.

She then crossed the room in what seemed like no time at all, placing two hands on his chest and shoving him harshly, making him stagger back and hit the bookshelf.

Books toppled to the floor as the shelf rattled, the wood dug painfully into the spot between his shoulder blades as she shoved him again when he tried to step forward.

"How dare you! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Delilah-"

She went to step away, turning her back on him. The very thing he was scared of her doing. On blind impulse, Tom reached out and took hold of her wrist.

"Get off me."

"Please just listen,"

"Don't touch me." He tried to grab her again, which made Delilah twist her arm and yank it out of his grip, causing her skin to burn and flush red.

"If I would've known something as bad as you nearly bleeding out to death was going to happen I would've never even done it in the first place."

Her eyes widened in not only disbelief, but frustration, and Delilah shoved him harshly into the bookshelf again.

"That's not the bloody point! You had no right, even if I didn't start choking on my own blood, you had absolutely no jurisdiction to look inside my head. My thoughts are mine and I am entitled to them, not you, not Dumbledore, not anyone."

Delilah couldn't breathe, so much was happening, she was realizing so much. Even Dumbledore made himself appear to have a right to look at her memories.

Her ears began to ring and her skin felt hot, she couldn't even look at him. With a slight scoff, Delilah turned to leave, but with a wave of Tom's hand the door slammed shut, making the wood rattle on its hinges.

"Riddle let me out now."

"Listen to me," he began again, his voice raising in agitation, which only pissed her off further. "Why should I? Let me the fuck out," she tried to unlock the door with numerous spells, but nothing was working. So in a fit of desperation, she started to hit and throw kicks at the door, oblivious to the pain shooting up her limbs with each blow.

"Delilah," he needed to fix this, and quickly.

Just the other day she wished, hoped even, he'd start calling her by her name. But now the mere sound of it coming from his mouth set a fire off raging her veins.