Mind Games | Tom Riddle | DISCONTINUED

Nineteen: A Shift

"You never get cold," Tom remarked pointedly.

"I'm fine, Tom," Azalea repeated. Then, she shivered again.

"It's far too cold out tonight for you to be wearing a shirt that thin," Tom lectured, standing up and removing his sweater.

"Now you're just wearing an undershirt," Azalea protested.

Tom ignored her, plucked the quill out of her hand, then placed the sweater in it. "Put it on," he ordered, his eyes locked on hers.

The look in Tom's eyes was all that Azalea needed to know that he wasn't going to budge. With a sigh, she pulled the sweater over her head and pushed her arms through the sleeves. After adjusting her hair, she looked up at him with her lips pursed. "Happy?" Azalea asked.

Tom kissed the top of her head, then answered, "Very. Now, finish your work. You shouldn't be up too late."

"Yes, Father," Azalea groaned in response. She picked up her quill and began finalizing the essay. It was for charms class, one of her easiest classes. However, it had one of the heaviest workloads. She was assigned seven rolls of parchment for that particular essay. Azalea exceeded expectations and wrote ten.

Despite her groaning, she secretly enjoyed the care she was receiving from Tom. And, she enjoyed wearing his sweater. It smelled just like him. In all honesty, she didn't want to give it back.

Tom watched Azalea finish, admiring the way her handwriting looped and curled. It was elegant, as to be expected from someone of her status. Tom knew that if he had her starting life, he would have been even more well-known and have had even more followers. Still, he wasn't envious. He had accomplished just as much as Azalea had.

"Finished," Azalea announced, tapping the parchment with her wand to dry the ink. She began rolling up the parchment and putting her things away.

Tom waved his wand, sending the books back to the shelves they were found on. He corked the inkpot and put the rest of his things away. Then, he turned and saw Azalea standing with her bag shouldered, and he couldn't help but smile at her beauty. He quite enjoyed the sight of her wearing his sweater.

"What are you smiling at?" Azalea asked with a knowing smirk.

"You," Tom replied, rolling his eyes. He took her hand and said, "Come along."

"Where are we going?" Azalea asked, walking with him.

"Back to the common room," Tom answered, holding open the library door for Azalea. Once they were both in the corridor, he took her hand and began leading her down the stairs. "Nobody will be awake at this hour, so we can talk in private," he continued.

Azalea nodded, feeling at peace as she walked with him. She didn't expect him to take her hand, but she wasn't upset by any means. Azalea was thoroughly enjoying walking with Tom, and she enjoyed the affectionate side of him. For someone who couldn't show emotion, she thought, he was excellent at showing how much he cared.

"Something on your mind, mi luz?" Tom asked her, noticing the smile on her face.

"You," Azalea replied smugly.

"What about me?" Tom asked with a smirk.

"Just fantasizing about strangling you in your sleep," she sneered.

"Really?" Tom asked with a wry smile.

"No, you idiot," Azalea replied.

"Am I going to have to remind you of what happens when you give me cheek?" Tom asked with a smirk.