"Annie, if you don't get your antisocial arse up now, I'm going to leave you behind."
Avril stood over Animo's bed with her hands on her hips. The only change from the girl's typical prim uniform were the occasional emerald and silver braids blended in her hair.
"I was just trying to finish this chapter!" Animo protested, looking up from her Herbology textbook. In all reality, she had really been studying her map of Nurmengard, which was still only halfway finished. Several of the dark hallways ended at an empty expanse. It was beyond difficult for Animo to access much of the fortress without garnering attention, no matter who she impersonated. What she wouldn't give for an invisibility cloak.
Avril sighed, plucking the book from Animo's hands and placing it on her desk, the map safely tucked between its pages. "If Alphard's dragging me to the Quidditch match and making me suffer, you must as well."
"What do you have against quidditch?" Animo pulled on a leather trench coat she had snagged from Hogsmeade, which was charmed to adjust in temperature according to the weather. "It's fun."
"Yes," Avril's expression was deadpanned as she led them both down the stairs. "A bunch of masculine toxicity demonstrated by trying to shove each other off broomsticks. It does so much for our society."
A laugh shook Animo's shoulders and she tried not to wince with pain. She had managed to heal most of her obvious cuts from her and Tom's duel a few nights ago, but the bruising seemed determined to linger. As for the boy himself, Animo had seen very little. She had chosen to sit at the back of class instead of beside Tom and although the pattern had become rather lonely, it was far better than a forced interaction. However, Tom appeared maddeningly unharmed with not a curl out of place and the only word Animo had heard of their 'incident' was Slughorn complaining to Dippet about Peeves' destroying one of his storage rooms. Animo never realized just how often the poltergeist took the fall for the recklessness of other students, but as Peeves seemed rather gleeful about the whole thing, Animo didn't feel too guilty.
Animo and Avril trudged through the snow, their heads ducked against the oncoming wind. Animo's face was numbed by the chill as they ducked under the entrance towards the stadium. The masses of students in the passage under the stands had thinned as they were rather late.
Turning to the right to join the cheering Slytherins, Avril froze and nearly caused Animo to fall as she scrambled to regain her balance.
"Wha—"
Animo stiffened at the boy looming in front of them, his dark eyes emotionless.
"Avril," Tom craned his neck towards the younger girl politely, although his gaze flickered back towards Animo. "Would you give Wallis and I a moment? I wished to discuss our Potions assignment."
Giving Tom an empty glance, Avril tilted back to shoot Animo a questioning look. Animo could clearly read the hesitance in the girl's amber orbs and half of her longed to refuse Tom's request. Yet, she knew it would be unwise.
"Sure," she forced a smile at her friend, completely ignoring Tom. "I'll meet up with you later. Alphard's probably already waiting."
There was a tense pause as Avril scanned her expression before turning back to Tom. "If you're not up in a bit, we'll find you." There was no mistaking the hint of warning in her voice before Avril backed away, heading down the passageway.
Tom waited until her retreating form faded up the stairs before he turned towards Animo, a hint of amusement lacing his gaze. "It seems that your little shows of defiance are contagious."
Crossing her arms against her chest, Animo leaned back against the wooden latticework with a wary air. "What do you want, Tom?"
For once, Tom's unfazed demeanor faltered and she caught his throat bobbing in frustration. "I would like to know how you come from a family of resistance fighters, yet seem so accustomed to dark magic? Or how, despite your insistence on chivalry, you didn't report that I—" Tom cut himself off, sensing that he was revealing too much emotion, "the incidence you saw the other night."
Animo remained motionless, confliction hindering her response. There was still a pulsing rage hidden behind her mask, a hurt that had bruised deep into her soul. "Listen, Tom," she threw his name quickly from her mouth, as though it were poisoned. "Your gang knew what they were getting into when they decided to grovel at your feet. As for me," she began to push past him, eager to end their conversation, "I don't believe we've ever had a civil interaction. And I refuse to entertain your obsession with power."
The grip on her elbow was firm, but not painful when Tom pulled her to a stop, making her face him. Animo forced herself to meet his gaze, trying not to show her discomfort at their close proximity. She could still smell the spearmint toothpaste on his breath, a strange contrast between the schoolboy and the darkness within. Tom dipped his head closer, scanning her expression with what seemed to be genuine confusion.
"How are you still not afraid of me?"
"I'm afraid for you, Tom." Animo shook her head, her tone barely a whisper as she tried again to make her exit. "Nothing good comes from the path you're seeking."
A wild cheer from above interrupted their solemn moment, making them both flinch. Taking a last furtive glance in her direction, Tom held out his arm. "Come. I know where to find the best seats."
Shooting the boy an incredulous expression, Animo tried to conceal her frustration. Did Tom think she was really that daft? She shook her head. "Avril and Alphard are—"
"Please."
The word was so soft, Animo scarcely believed that she had heard it. Yet the strained expression on Tom's face told her otherwise. The boy looked as though he were the one in some sort of torture. She thought of Gellert, who had stormed the world in a rage that even Albus could not quell. A sigh escaped her lips. "If you try anything, Riddle," Animo placed a hand tentatively on his arm, "you'll regret it."
The hint of a smirk tilted the Head Boy's lips. "Making threats now, Wallis? Be careful, one might begin to believe you're a Slytherin after all."
Animo took the lead up the stairs, refusing to let Tom have any leverage over her. Still, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in distrust. "I am a Slytherin, thanks."
"Right," Tom gave a snort, motioning for her to take a narrow right up a spiral set of stairs. "You're a tame Hufflepuff."
Rolling her eyes, Animo trudged upwards, trying not to trip on the end of her robes. "Yes. How long did it take you to wash Bubotuber pus from your robes?" She sent Tom a pointed look and the Slytherin scowled.
"You did send Lestrange to the Hospital Wing for two days," Tom pointed her towards an oak door at the front of the stands. "Most inconvenient."
Frowning, Animo leaned over to push open the golden handle, but Tom whipped out his arm to stop her. "Only opens for the Heads of the school."
"I—" Animo's remark fell away as Tom pushed open the door and revealed a small room. It was lined with nothing but glass on the furthest side, revealing the field beyond. They were just high enough that they could see most of the action at eye level. Lyall zoomed past their window, his auburn hair a blur against the grey sky. Several cushioned chairs were lined in front of the glass, reclined at a comfortable angle.
"Does anyone else know about this?" Animo shook her head as she trailed her fingers over the velvet fabric. She couldn't imagine a view like this staying secret for long.
Tom lounged back on a chair, seeming annoyingly triumphant and uninterested in the game playing out before them. "No. Dippet offered it to me at the beginning of term. Apparently, I had convinced him of my 'trustworthy' manner." There was a hint of mockery in his tone.
"Dippet really sees nothing does he?" Animo pulled at the thread of her armrest, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Was it right for her to be alone with Tom after all he had done? Certainly, the boy had not had a change of heart. "I used to study Quidditch books for ages," she leaned forward, watching as one of the Ravenclaw Beaters tried to hit Wood off his broom, to no success. "There was nothing more I wanted than to fly." Animo knew that the second she reflected the conversation back onto Tom that the boy would shut down, so she tried to make herself appear a bit vulnerable. "I used to watch the skies every day and imagine I was up among the clouds."
Tom was rather unimpressed. "So why didn't you just get on a broom? You are a pureblood, aren't you?"
"I didn't get out of the house much," Animo didn't want to linger on the memory of the peeling walls and the stink of whiskey. "Wasn't safe." She could tell Tom was poised to ask another question, so she slightly diverted the topic. "I went out with Lyall and Dominic a few weeks ago though. Turns out, I'm not a natural." A slight smile passed over her lips at the memory.
She turned to see the Head Boy regarding her with a bit of derision. "Those idiots don't know which way is up."
"They're some of Hogwarts' best players!" Animo attempted to scold him, but she found that she was slightly enjoying the banter. The image of Orion's bloody face rose to greet her and she shut off that strain of thoughts.
Tom raised an eyebrow, watching as Dominic made an excellent save, looping underneath the hoops to pass the Quaffle back to his teammates. "I've seen trolls with higher intelligence."
"Trolls?" Animo's interest was peaked and she leaned forward slightly. "You've met a troll?"
His eyes shining with importance, Tom tilted his head, causing several curls to cascade over his eyes. "I've been a few places, Wallis," his boastful tone was rather irritating.
"Rub it in, why don't you," Animo pursed her lips before turning back towards the game. They spent the next few moments in silence, watching as the Gryffindors continued to rack up points.
"Actually, I never was allowed to do much either." Tom shifted in his seat, adjusting his long legs against the glass. "Home was not pleasant for me."
Animo shuddered, remembering the lonely halls of the house Gellert had left her in on his frequent 'engagements.' "Neither was mine. I don't like to think about it."
"You have heroic parents," Tom's voice was scathing and Animo flinched at the hatred that suddenly burned in his gaze. "I would be hesitant to complain."
It was not difficult for Animo to remember Wool's Orphanage, which Albus had shown her in his Pensive. She felt a flash of sympathy for the home's occupants, including the empty soul before her. "They were never around much, but I suppose you're right." She tapped her fingers on her knee in tandem with the music that echoed from inside the field. Apparently, brass bands were as common in the wizarding world as they were in the muggle world of this time.
"You know, Wallis," Tom leaned forward ever so slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he made direct eye contact. In the dim winter light, Animo realized there was a hue of green in his dark gaze, hidden about his pupils. "You may be a decent witch, but you're a terrible liar."
Animo's mouth went dry. "I—" she stumbled for an excuse, watching as a wall of distrust began to build in Tom's expression. Running her finger along the edge of her wand, she sank back into her chair. "Alright. My parents are dead."
A flicker of shock danced in Tom's gaze, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Did they die in one of Grindelwald's raids?" There was no sympathy in his tone, but a slight wariness, as though he were hesitant to continue the conversation.
In that moment, Animo was hit with the importance of her next response while she observed Tom's uneasy demeanor. It was less discomfort and more a vulnerability, just enough that Animo would not have recognized it if she hadn't spent years hiding her own emotions. "No." She swallowed, never having discussed the pain of her past. "They died years ago. My father was a terrible person, but he charmed my mother into marrying him not long after they met in France. By the time she realized his true nature, she was already pregnant with my brother and knew that if she tried to leave—" Animo cut herself off, noticing her voice start to tremble. "My father would not rest until he found her. Eventually, she had me and things were as stable as they could be for a few years. My father was rarely around and my mother hid her sadness in the stories she would tell my brother and I, but we always knew that we weren't safe. Then," Animo shuddered, gripping her fists tightly at her sides. "One day she was just gone. I woke up and couldn't find her anywhere. My father told me that my mother had gone on a long trip to visit her family, but I knew that she had separated from them before she had ever met my father. As the weeks passed into months, my father didn't bother to change his excuse, even though my brother and I knew better. He would rather my mother be dead than to ever see her be free."
Animo felt the throbbing of tears behind her eyes, just waiting to gather and spill over her cheeks. Rubbing her elbow across her face, she cleared her throat stubbornly, upset at her display of emotion. When Tom didn't respond, she looked over to see him staring at the sky above, the clouds heavy with snow. His fingers curled tightly on his armrests, his knuckles even paler than the rest of his skin with the strain.
Just as Animo gave up on receiving a response, Tom's voice broke through the torrent of images that were revolving through her memory.
"My parents are dead too."
And somehow, Animo knew that this admittance could change everything.