Mind Games | Tom Riddle | DISCONTINUED

Nineteen: A Shift

Tom had heeded Azalea's words and began to practice extreme caution when dealing with the basilisk. He made sure that he had Azalea's approval before attacking, and he made sure she was far away from wherever the body would be found.

The dynamic between Tom and Azalea had shifted. The constant anger was replaced with a pleasant calmness, and the violent fights were replaced with disagreements that got heated at best before the two realized what they were doing and took a few steps back for a moment before resolving the issue at hand.

It was an odd sight. Both Tom and Azalea's followers would often discuss the strange behaviors of their leaders, who were becoming a single unit.

On a frigid, late January night, Tom and Azalea were studying in the library. The only school-related event the next day was a Hogsmeade visit, but the two were incredibly studious and often spent their Friday nights working.

She was dressed in a grey shirt and thick, black, fleece-lined pants. Her hair was tied in a loose braid that hung over her right shoulder, and she wore no jewelry, save for Salazar Slytherin's signet ring gleaming proudly on her right hand.

He wore a thick, maroon sweater and worn khaki slacks that he insisted were comfortable any time Azalea questioned him. Marvolo Gaunt's ring sat on his left hand as a symbol of his power.

The two had books and parchment spread out on one of the more secluded tables in the library. The centerpiece was a jar of bluebell flames produced by Azalea. Each student had a quill. They used the same inkwell on Tom's orders. His reasoning was that there was no reason for Azalea to unpack more than she needed to when they both preferred the exact same ink. He also insisted on sitting to her right so she'd have plenty of space to write without worrying about bumping elbows.

Tom was observing Azalea, who was furiously writing, with a smile. He noticed the glint in her eye and the way she chewed on her bottom lip when she was pondering on the next perfectly-articulated phrase.

"How is your essay coming along, mi luz?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Well enough," Azalea responded. While she didn't look up at him, the tone of her words was warm and friendly with him.

"I do miss your attention," Tom said with mischief on his face, "You seem bored."

"Just because I'm not looking up at you doesn't mean I'm not giving you attention," Azalea replied pointedly, "I happen to be an excellent multitasker."

"Well, maybe I'm bored watching you write," Tom remarked.

"Do some work then. You'll have time for your games when I'm done," Azalea told him with an uncontainable smile.

Tom took her hand in his, gently kissing it. "But I want to play my games now," he whined with an overly-exaggerated pout.

Azalea looked up at him, chuckling when she saw his expression. "This essay is the last thing I have to do. Then, I'm all yours," she said.

Tom stood up and wrapped his arms around her, leaning over her shoulder. "You already are all mine," he responded with a smirk.

Azalea ignored his actions and began writing again, only responding with a roll of her eyes and a smirk.

"Very well," Tom said. He then sat back down and resumed watching her and holding her small hand in his. He thumbed over the signet ring, and his thoughts began to wander to the idea of ruling by her side. The idea of waking up next to her and working with her brought a small smile to his face.

Tom was brought back to reality when he noticed Azalea shiver. "Are you alright?" he asked with slight concern.

"I'm fine," she responded, smiling at him.