Ivory was left standing alone in the cold hallway.
Not like she could feel it anyways. But still, Tom had just left her there. She wondered where his destination could be as his figure disappeared from her vision and his scent slowly fading away.
What a twat.
Sighing, she draped her cape around her slim shoulders and headed back to their dormitory.
When Ivory arrived, she found that only Walburga was present. The girl was sitting at her desk, applying oils and such to her face, a sight Ivory had grown accustomed to with the nights she stayed there.
"Glad to see you're still in one piece. I was afraid that Riddle had torn you to shreds by now."
"He needs to try a lot more than to escort me out of dinner if he even wants a piece of me," Ivory scoffed as she shrugged off her cape and proceeded to undress herself.
A snort was heard from Walburga as the image of her cousin and Tom shagging came to her mind because of Ivory's words. Immediately, Ivory tried to correct herself as she realized what she said.
"No, Irma. I did not mean it like that."
Walburga could practically envision Ivory's brown eyes rolling at her as she said that. Turning around to face her, Black was met with Lavigne's backside, only white lacy undergarments covering her body. The girl was standing sideways, her back to Walburga. She was looking at her scars through a mirror yet again and wondered what other people would have thought of them. Or her for that matter.
"You didn't ask for those, you know."
The statement echoed in Ivory's head. No, I didn't. She didn't ask for any of this, yet here it was, given to her. A sigh fell past her lips as she started to get into her nightgown.
"You remind me whenever you can, Irma. I know, I don't need the reassurance anymore."
To any other person that would have heard, the reply would've sounded cold. But to Walburga, she knew that it had gratitude weaved deep into its meaning. The bond they have made her understand that Ivory had trouble expressing affection because it wasn't shown much to her when she was a child. The black haired girl only hummed in response and grabbed a book, proceeding to sit on her bed with her back pressed on the headboard to read.
"Why isn't Maeve back yet?" Ivory asked as she sat at her desk, preparing to tie her hair into curls just because she didn't have anything better to do.
"Oh I wouldn't expect her to return tonight," Walburga replied, a slight playful tone evident on her voice.
The blonde stopped her actions and turned back towards the other girl in the room, "And why's that?"
"She'll be sleeping with our cousin tonight, dear Eszter."
"Oh."
While she did not care about Matthew's sexual endeavours, Ivory did not know what to think when he's shagging her acquaintance. Shaking her head, she decided to not think about it as best she can and just continue on tying her hair.
Though as the thought of Matthew and Maeve exited her mind, the thoughts of a certain boy replaced it. Ivory had to admit for a second time, joining Riddle's club had no downside. They're going to try their best to gain power, but whatever means necessary in order to achieve that, she does not know. Then so what? It's not like anything bad was going to happen to them.
Right?
A shiver ran down her spine as she thought about it more. Shaking her head in attempt to forget about it, her arm hit the neat pile of unopened envelopes she received over the week. Ivory picked them up and decided to open them now. I hope there's nothing important that I missed. Usually when there was something important, her parents would write within a plum colored envelope. She would always thought that it wasn't so discreet.
Ivory cycled through the letters, just finding junk mail that consisted of journalists asking to talk to her, and her father's usual letters of telling her to be on her best behavior. One letter did catch her eye though, it was a letter like the one she received back in Beuxbatons. It was from Matthews mother.
When she opened the envelope up, the familiar handwriting of Rosalita Lestrange's handwriting greeted her. The letter consisted of her aunt's regards and asking how her son was doing. Aunt Lestrange wanted an update report.
Though Ivory did want to rat out her cousin and earn a reward in return, she didn't want Matthew to be punished in any way. I suppose I could threaten him in the future with what I know, she thought. Yes, Ivory nodded to herself. It would be useful to her in the future when she needs it.
So she wrote down lies and false behavior into paper and sealed it inside an envelope, ready to be sent out tomorrow.
Quiet snores were heard from the other side of the room. Ivory turned around to find that Walburga had fallen asleep, a book barely within her grasp.
Ivory blew the bright candles out, sighing as she held her head in her hands. With the letter finished and no one there to distract her, thoughts of her encounter with Tom trickled into her mind once again.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.
As Black said, midnight struck and yet Maeve still wasn't back. Like she always did, Ivory slipped out of bed, not forgetting to take the silly ties she had on her hair. There wasn't really any destination in mind for Ivory. She could go to the usual Come-and-go room—she learned what the room was called—but she wasn't in the mood for reading, so the restricted section of the library wasn't an option either. Maybe I should just wander outside, there may be a full moon out, she thought.
And went outside she did.
Ivory decided to explore out to the black lake. They've only visited a number of times for their Care of Magical Creatures class to observe a couple of Grindylows, but she heard that there was a giant squid who lived there. So an idea had popped in her head.
Let's give the nice calamar a visit, shall we?
To say that Tom was pissed would be an understatement.
Leaving Lavigne behind, he headed towards the astronomy tower in attempt to clear his mind, get a breath of fresh air.
Echoes of his dress shoes rang hard throughout the halls. Tom didn't care if he gets caught by the caretaker or the teachers, he was still fuming about the recent conversation he had with the witch.
Why wouldn't she just join like the others did? What do I have to do to convince her?
When he arrived, a wave of relaxness washed over him as he saw the starry night sky. The boy has always loved looking up at night, even more when starts were visible. Back in the orphanage, whenever he couldn't sleep, he would open his window and gaze upon the heavenly bodies above him. He'd dream what it would be like to live amongst the stars, away from the depressing life he lived in the orphanage.
Tom shook his head, disliking the thoughts of Wool's. He was here now, and he will rule the world one day. But before he could do that, he still needed to know his lineage. Tom had only known that his mother died after giving birth to him, which made him think that she wasn't a witch. If she were, then she wouldn't have died from just a simple childbirth, Tom scoffed. So ever since he started his education at Hogwarts, the wizard has tried searching for clues to his father's achievements or any records regarding of him, but even till now, Tom hasn't found any. This got him frustrated over the years and his patience is slowly thinning.
Hours passed with the boy just sitting there, his eyes tracing constellations on the night sky. When he looked at his pocket watch, he'd find the time to had already been a quarter past twelve. A cold breath went past his lips as he stood up, the jacket he was wearing wasn't enough to withstand the cold September air anymore.
When he arrived at the slytherin common room, he expected a certain blonde to be there. But to his dismay, there wasn't. He doesn't even know why he looked for her. I suppose we've been seeing each other too frequently here in the late of night, Tom reasoned to himself.
He removed his blazer as he sat down on the couch, taking out a cigarette in the process. The stick of cigarette felt comfortable on his lips. Grabbing his wand, Tom recited a spell that produced a small flame from the tip of his bone-white wand. It ignited the thin stick and he puffed it in, the pleasant burning in his lungs making him tilt his head back into the sofa.
Cerulean blues traced the black lake's reflection in the ceiling. The wizard felt tranquil, he always does whenever he smoked. Tom was about to close his eyes when the sudden ripple of the water's reflection caught his attention. Brows furrowed in confusion as his head craned over to look at the window. Tom's mouth parted from what he saw.
There swimming was a golden haired witch, who looked just as shocked as he was.