18 | take my hand
TOM RIDDLE'S HEAD SEEMED about to go astray. He walked side by side with Merope, both lacking the courage to utter any word. When adverting his gaze to her, though, he could not seem to accomplish the understanding of her brain -- mostly because, well, she seemed to be skilled in Occlumency and left no small dot for him to look into.
Still, he was confused by her actions. I allowed the basilisk to kill someone, he thought, why did she not leave me?
They had a silent agreement between each other, something that allowed him to reveal himself as he was, but he had never truly shown his true colours to her. Yes, he had been rude on a couple of occasions, but had never let her see what he could actually be -- desperate for power, even if that meant to kill someone. In part, Tom had refused himself to be that comfortable around her because she and her intelligence might come in handy one time, he didn't want to scare her away.
But once he let that atrocious side of him be revealed, she hadn't fled to Professor Dumbledore like he had expected, and that made a subtle admiration grow for that girl. She had even done as much as kissing him, -- something that he never quite understood about teenagers like him -- probably out of pity. How could she still find something worth being bothered for in a monster as vile as him? He couldn't understand it.
Merope's mind was blank. She walked through the stone floor in automatic mode, focusing only on trying to ease the headache that was starting to build up. She's dead. There is a girl death inside the castle. As they began to reach the Astronomy tower, something clicked inside of her brain. It was not time for class yet, they still had some minutes to spare -- time to arrange a convincing plan.
"Thomas," she said, making him stop along with her, she gestured to a small place under the stairs to where he followed her before speaking again, "we need an alibi."
He nodded, she could see how he quickly understood her words. "What do you suggest?"
They had both been out of everyone's sight, and when they found the girl, the professors will think firstly of the people who weren't inside the Common Rooms -- and with this much danger lurking around, the people who dared to roam the castle were very few. Suddenly and intensely, a sharp pain hit her temples before she could developed her thoughts any further.
"I can't think," her hand moved to massage her forehead, dropping the it after feeling a raise of temperature, "and I don't think I'm in much of a condition to simply lie."
He nodded once more, placing his hand back where she had been a second before. He frowned. "You're extremely hot."
"I know I am," she said, offering him a small smile. He removed his hand from her forehead, "bloody hot, even."
"I don't think we have time for your wise comments," he began, voice dripping with sarcasm while leaning further against the wall, "and I think I may have something working for both of us. You may not like the idea, though."
She looked up at him, meeting her milk chocolate brown eyes in his icy blue ones, silently urging him to continue. She felt something click inside of her, she knew it was him, who seemed to be trying to enter her mind, again. This time, using her headache in his favor, but still failing to see anything other but the annoyance building up along with her pain.
"Alright," he muttered, seeming slightly taken by surprise, "let's just use part of the truth. We'll say we were together, hidden, wanting to be in private."
Merope wriggled her nose. "You know what everyone is going to say."
Tom was quick to reply. "I was always under the impression that you didn't worry about what others said."
"Why," she sank further down the wall and was now crouching, grabbing her knees, "why should I even help you get out of this? I must be crazy. . ."
He didn't reply to that, but grabbed her arm and made her stand up. "Class is going to start."
***
When what was probably the worst class in her entire life ended, Merope made it a point to stay close to Tom. He, too, seemed to comprehend her idea and ignored the bunch of Slytherins who usually followed him around nearly everywhere. They shot her dirty looks, but her head was pounding too much and her tears had already dried in such a way, that she did not bother to retribute.
Not long after, they heard a cry -- so loud and agonizing that it made her heart shatter. Merope and Tom followed the crowd who were quick to run towards the source. Her heart only sank further when she saw that the voice belonged to their Divination Professor. Dumbledore had arrived shortly after them, and his eyes momentarily sat on Tom. She made a quick, rash decision of grabbing his hand and intertwined her fingers in his. Noticing her gesture, his eyes suddenly adverted to her, and then to the rest of the Professors. Tom was pleased with him stopping his intimidating glare.
"I am really, really scared, Thomas." she said to his ear, refusing to letting go of his hand.
He glanced down at her, scanning her eyes for a hint of fear, and it was so clear that she was terrorized. "Is your head alright? I don't want you fainting and raising more awareness."
"Don't you dare to think that I'll go to the infirmary," she hissed, glueing her body to his in an attempt to make them seem more romantic and less psychotic, "or you believe that they have coffins ready for dead students? If I faint, you man up and carry me."
He slightly turned himself to her. For an outsider, it would look much like they were about to kiss. "No way, you are simply too heavy."
"Oi! Why do you say that?" Merope complained through gritted teeth, trying to distract herself from the agonizing cries that some girls were producing.
"I carried you once," he said, quickly looking to the bathroom door before looking back at her, "when the first petrifying happened. Slughorn gave you a draught and you feel asleep on me."
She didn't reply, so he continued speaking. "Can't you shed a tear or two? We are starting to look odd."
"I'm all out of tears," she said, separating her body from his and dragging him from the middle of the crowd to where the professors stood, "but there is something better we can do. Prefect duties."
They pushed past the growing crowd and made their way to Professor Dippet, who seemed to be deep in though. Tom, who had realized her idea, was the one to speak first.
"Professor," he began, tugging Merope's hand, "we wish to help with anything we can."
"Oh, Tom, my boy, very well then. You and Miss Bullock can begin directing everyone to the Great Hall. I will send some other Prefects to help you, yes." his words seemed to lack determination, and Merope felt her chest tighten in fear.
Before they separated, she asked Tom one more question. One that he himself wanted to avoid. "Will they close Hogwarts?"
"I really hope that they don't, Merope."
****
This chapter was so small and uneventful, sorry, I have to study a lot for my History test this Friday. I have nearly 100 pages to go through so forgive me.
Don't forget to voice your opinions, your comments are what makes me inspired :)