"As you may know," Headmaster Dippet began, his shaking voice full of concern and hesitation, "A Ravenclaw student, Myrtle Warren, was murdered this past week."
A few of the unaware students gasped and Ravenclaw fell deadly silent, remembering their housemate. They'd all had mixed feelings on her yet her death had brought them all to the state of mourning.
"We urge anyone to come forward if they have any information about this."
Elizabeth subconsciously stared at Tom solemnly from across the table. Noticing she was doing so, she mouthed to him, "You didn't say anything yet?"
Tom caught her eye. His orbs were as icy and cold as always, as if someone had frozen them and put them back into their sockets. Tom silently replied with the movements of his mouth, "I shall after this assembly."
Elizabeth nodded subtly at Tom. She felt his gentle hand touch her knee under the table and the contact, which had made her heart burst, was gone as quick as it came. She shook her head clear of the thought.
It was probably someone else doing it by mistake, Elizabeth thought to herself. She inwardly groaned.
The four chattering houses were soon called back to their dormitories before curfew but Tom waited behind patiently. Elizabeth swiftly moved behind one of the withering stone statues just next to where he stood, waiting to speak to Headmaster Dippet.
"I believe I hold some valuable information," Tom said confidently as Dippet urged him to speak.
The headmaster frowned, shaking his head, "What is it?"
"Rubeus Hagrid is the culprit," Tom told him, his unwavering voice monotonous and cold, "He has been raising an acromantula."
"An acromantula?" Dippet repeated. His aging eyes held confusion and doubt but nevertheless he continued to say, "We did not conclude that it could have been such a beast, yet it is fairly reasonable. We shall look further into this."
"Headmaster, will the school be shut?" Tom gulped. He'd previously asked Dumbledore, but he was unsure of whether or not the professor would have known for sure.
"I am unsure as of yet," Headmaster Dippet sighed. He was clearly stressed and Tom's accusation came completely out of the blue. Dippet was curious and very skeptical about how Tom had come into the situation and how he'd discovered Rubeus Hagrid's spider.
"Thank you, Mr Riddle," Dippet added. Tom bowed his head slightly before walking away. Elizabeth waited until the coast was clear before rushing after him.
Tom was unaware of her presence until she sprinted up behind him and slipped her small hand into his. He pulled away at the sudden and unexpected contact, startled.
"I heard everything, Tom," she said quietly, "You are positive it was that Gryffindor student, right?"
"Yes," Tom replied. He wasn't impressed that Elizabeth doubted him, but he felt his heart flutter at the thought that she knew him well enough to know he was a liar.
Oh, the things that made an 'emotionless' man swoon.
"Okay," Elizabeth mumbled. They walked towards the Slytherin common room in silence but as soon as they arrived there, she asked tentatively, "Would I be correct to assume you're speaking to Lestrange and Malfoy again?"
"You wouldn't," Tom grumbled as he stepped into the portrait, the green glow of the common room tinting his skin. Elizabeth mentally noted that this made him look almost like a snake, "Neither of them have turned up to the dorms since."
"Perhaps you should approach them," Elizabeth suggested. The boy scoffed.
Tom shook his head, "I don't approach. I wait for others to come to me."
Elizabeth sighed audibly, thinking of how he'd clearly rejected her the day before. He didn't even know what she was going to say.
"Tom, there is something I need to tell you. I know you don't want me to tell you now," she whispered, her dark caramel brown eyes glistening with fear and her heart dying to hold back from telling him anything else, "So I won't."
"Then why are you telling me this?" Tom questioned, quirking a well-shaped, dark eyebrow.
"Because someday, I shall tell you whether you like it or not. I'm warning you," Elizabeth announced shyly, her cheeks transforming into a startling shade of pink.
"Perhaps I will tell you my secret too," Tom whispered, and for once he wasn't confident in his words. He didn't know what he meant by that.
He loved her, he could always tell her that. But wouldn't it make him an awful lover to tell her that without telling her that he was Myrtle Warren's merciless murderer first?