destruction | t.m.r

chapter twenty seven.

There was a loud crash coming from the living room. I jumped out of bed, literally jumped. The noise I made was louder than the one before. Taking a wand of the bedside table I went tiptoeing into the living room.

There was a clothed figure, all in black. Their back turned to me, who in the Merlin's name is this. I pointed my wand at them, I will use it if I will need to. "Who are you!" I asked, the figure slowly turning around and I let my wand fall down.

"Riddle." The boy now took of his cap, showing me his full head of curls. "What are you doing here?" Said I. It was far to early for his scandalous manner, and I haven't drank my tea yet.

"I said that I will visit you." He said while sitting on one of the stools and I laughed at him. Knocking on the door would be far more appropriate. "Where were you before you came here?" I asked while taking out two cups and putting water to boil on the stove.

"It's not important." He said while playing with his wand, he was hiding something from me. "What did you do?" I said while putting a little bag of tea in the cup, now only waiting for the water. Did I really want to know?

"I was at my fathers." I quickly turned around, no he didn't. "What did you do Tom?" I asked slowly, now I spoke his name. No longer does it matter to him. I know what he did, and somehow he knows that I know.

"It's not important anymore." Tom Riddle killed his father. And I didn't stop it. "He is not alive." I said while looking at the boy, I could see a smirk growing on his face.

"You killed them too, didn't you. Your grandmother and grandfather." I exclaimed while burning my hand on the hot water. Was this Merlin's way of punishing me. For letting things go just as they did in the future?
"Well, of course. But don't worry. They won't find out that I did it." He just as me exclaimed. Of course they wouldn't.

Tom Riddle put blame on his mother's brother. And now, he was truly left alone in this world.

"I thinked about staying here until we go back to Hogwarts." He said while now looking up at me. I nodded. "I have a spare bedroom." I said while taking water and pouring it into the cups, I was now sitting next to him. I didn't want to think of him killing his parents. The images disturbing me. Him in blood, somebody else's blood.

"Do you have a study here?" Tom asked while looking around. I said yes not asking why he needed it in first place. As soon as Tom drinked his tea he got up and went to look around for the study, I on the other hand was still sipping my tea slowly. Another three murders on my list and the list is starting to get bigger and bigger when it's needed to get smaller and smaller.

"Tom." I shouted, wanting to get boys attention, but he didn't hear me or he didn't want to. "Tom." I said again now going closer to the study, when I opened the door and saw Tom sitting on a desk with papers in front of him.

"Riddle?" I asked once again, now his head slowly went up, and just now I could see redness in his eyes, he was tired. "You need to sleep a little." I said while going to stand next to him.

"No, I have something far more important to spend my time on then on slumber." He said while picking up papers, but they were turned backwards. I didn't know he could read gibberish.

"If you don't go willingly, I will put you under a spell." I tilted my head. I was meet with a chuckle, it sounded nice, almost warm, playful. Almost. "You wish Rowe." With that he disappeared around the corner. Hopefully he will find the correct room and not go wandering into mine.

Soon after he left I went looking for him, but I couldn't find him. Not in the guest room. Not in mind. Only when I stepped into a living room a bundle of black was seen on the sofa. His large, lanky body was squished. But he looked comfortable. His hair has fallen over his eyes. His lips were parted. The moved. His whole face moved while he slept.

I wanted to touch him. His face. Hair. Hands. When he has open eyes he looks cold, he is glaring at you, but now, he is powerless, his calm. His cautious moves no longer existed in this state. I like him better when he sleeps. I went to move the fallen strands on hair from his face, my hands were light but somehow still startled him.

I gave out a little giggle. He was dreaming and it looked like a pleasant dream. Hopefully without murdering people. That made me think. Does Tom Riddle dream of a life where he doesn't kill people? Does he have a wish to live normally, with his wife, kids and magic. Without the burden of the souls he took.

I sighted, sitting on the floor. My back was to the sofa, it moved with him and so did I. Putting a book in my lap I soon fell asleep to the sound of his slow, steady breathing.

I felt hands on my hair, they were light, comfort overwhelmed me. I could feel somebody elses touch, their hands were cold but felt good. Soft whispering could be heard but words were still unclear in my ears. Speak clearer I wanted to yell. I could only distinguish some ; wish, souls, love. You could write songs of them, poetry, but not mer sentences.

Then the whispering became clear, like a day after a storm. "You know, the curious paradox is that I cannot accept myself just as I am. That's why I can't change my ways. But I deal with my actions, I am these actions. I never felt guilty about them, until I saw your face mangled in disgust by my doings. Why must you hold such expression?" The voice started to fade away. It was a familiar one, it was soft like a mother's hand, but strong as father's voice.

"My soul is rotten, gone. I kept my thoughts in me, that's how it got eaten." Then I woke fully to an empty cottage. The voice and the person that it belong to vanished, gone.