"Come to me, master. We must get rid of those who are so unworthy..."
Tom suddenly gasped back to life from a deathlike slumber. It was only a couple weeks into the new school term and odd things were starting to happen to him. The voice he'd heard the night he arrived back hadn't just gone away like he thought it would. Tom had naturally assumed it was just another one of Peeve's infamous pranks. The poltergeist had a history of bizarre macabre humor. It wouldn't be the first time he played a long-game joke and he surely had it out for Tom after the whole trophy room incident last year. Sometimes Tom would simply be walking in the corridors, minding his own business, and the chilling voice would randomly seep into his mind saying frightening things that didn't make sense. Tom was almost certain of Peeves guilt and was about to set the Baron after him, but then the voice started to ooze into his dreams.
In these peculiar dreams, the disembodied speaker had a vaguely familiar backdrop. Almost every night since the start of term, he found himself helplessly lost within the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. Tom was walking amongst the snake pillars to look upon the gargantuan statue of a man he didn't know. His face was lost in darkness. It felt like he'd been there several times before, rather than catching a mere glimpse of the room in an old photograph and it became more lifelike every night. The smell of sewer water, the damp muggy air, the click of his shoes on the wet stone floor. He could always hear the mystery voice as clear as if it were right standing beside him, however, it always hid in the shadows just beyond his gaze. He'd go to the hospital wing, if he didn't think that it'd get him a one-way ticket to St. Mungo's. Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices wasn't a good sign.
This latest nightmare had added yet another detail to this gruesome hellscape. Sometimes Tom could faintly hear a different voice calling his name from the dark and he'd finally heard it enough times to recognize it. Her voice. He'd tried to warn her of the ominous figure who kept bringing him to the chamber and tell her to get away, but all that came out of his mouth was threatening hisses of Parseltongue.
"Did you say something?" Tom asked Peter, who was the only one in the room that was not currently face down in a pillow taking advantage of the Saturday. He was desperately searching for a reasonable explanation to not only this particular morning, but what had been weeks of mental torment. However, he already knew Peter was not the source of the voice. Tom was their leader, but none of the lot of them would ever call him "master" like that.
"No." Peter replied, looking at him with a matching confusion. It was still a reasonably early hour, and he was far too busy cramming on a late homework assignment to ask his sleeping roommates any questions. Tom had been in a dead slumber, just like the rest of them. Although, for someone supposedly in a deep sleep, he sure was awfully chatty. "You were mumbling in your sleep again, though. Parseltongue..."
"Forget it." Tom fumed, pulling off the sheets to start getting ready for his day. He didn't have a mirror to check, but he was fairly certain he didn't get enough sleep and had dark circles under his eyes. He undoubtedly looked like a sickly corpse, and he could still hear the voice faintly in his ears. However, Tom successfully managed to push it back by the time he was dressed. There was no time to be worrying about any of this now. He had somewhere he needed to be. "I'm heading out now. Speak of this to no one..."
Peter nodded dutifully and, although he still seemed more focused in his work, Tom was assured his secrets were in safe hands.
He left the dorms with too much to wrap his head around. The Chamber of Secrets, his past, and the voice. He felt like they were all connected somehow. He just needed to figure out how. Hopefully, where he was going there would be some answers. Tom was walking through the corridors at a fast pace, hoping he would not be ambushed by one of the annoying first years, like Eileen Prince, who saw the Prefect badge and immediately had a billion stupid questions that he'd have no choice but to answer.
"Hello Tom!"
At first Tom thought a freshman had even dared to call him by his first name and turned with a tremendous glare to see which one had dared. Not even the people in his year addressed him by Tom, most of the time. However, his tired, addled mind must've distorted the voice. He turned around to find it wasn't even a student at all. Professor Slughorn was trudging towards him, smiling and waving, while still trying to hold onto all his books and scrolls at the same time. Good lord, how tired he must've been to almost make such a clumsy mistake.
"Good day, professor."
"—Are you busy with anything at the moment, Tom?"
"Not at all, sir." Tom lied, his expression instantly softening his prickly demeanor and running to help him with some of his things. Whatever it was that Slughorn wanted him to do, his plans for investigation would just have to be put on hold. He could not deny his most favorite teacher, who also happened to be the most influenced one as well.
"Then, would you care to come have some tea with me in my office? It's been a while since we've had a good chat outside of class."
"Of course. I'd be delighted to, sir."
Tom slightly wondered what Frankie was doing at this moment. Slughorn usually asked her to tea. Was she busy with something? They walked to Slughorn's office, making idle chatter on the most recent lessons and potions. Naturally, Frankie came up as well, along with the reason why she wasn't able to come to tea this morning. Apparently, she was busy O.W.L studying in the library with some of the other Gryffindors. His exhaustion instantly regretted accepting such an invitation when the only person who could possibly revive him was sitting in the library.
"You seem a little tired, Tom." Slughorn added. After mentioning that she was studying in the library and pouring Tom a cup of tea, he noticed Tom hadn't replied. He was staring at the cup intently and his eyes had very harsh circles underneath them, "—Frankie has been telling me that you've been quite engaged with some sort of personal research lately. I hope you're not tiring yourself out with all this extra work—what sort of search is it then?"
"Y-yes, sir. I'm trying to find my father and..." Tom stumbled. The question had caught him a little off guard in his exhausted state of mind. Was that really the sort of thing him and Frankie talked about? How much had she told him? Surely not much, considering he hadn't told her that much. While she knew well that he was looking for his wizarding roots, she didn't know that he was also curious about the Chamber of Secrets and believed it had something to do with his past. There had to be a reason he kept going back there. Tom silently debated whether to tell Slughorn about his interest in the chamber or not. Slughorn was one of the more knowledgeable teachers. He could tell him what he needed to know if he played his cards right. "—Sir, forgive me for the sudden and very imprudent question—but do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"
"The Chamber of Secrets? It's said to be a chamber hidden within the school that Salazar Slytherin left behind." Slughorn answered, simply. It was about as informative as all the books he had read on the subject. However, that was obviously the teacher censored answer. He needed something more and he figured Slughorn had more to tell him.
"Does it actually exist?"
"The school has been searched by the teachers many times and no such thing has ever been found. But..."
"But?—But, what?" Tom inquired, sounding a little too desperate to hear the answer.
"They didn't have the smarts of Albus Dumbledore and Elizabeth Broad." Slughorn whispered. It was obviously some kind of big reveal if he felt the need to whisper it in his own office, like someone else was listening in. Tom just didn't understand what it was supposed to mean though.
"Dumbledore and Frankie's mum?" Tom questioned, for once not faking his confusion, like he usually did in conversations such as this. What did they have to do with anything? "They were both in Gryffindor. How could they be able to find the Chamber of Secrets? Surely, Salazar Slytherin of all people would make it impenetrable to Gryffindors."
"I'm not sure if they ever did find it, but I'm sure they got a lot closer than anyone else ever has." Slughorn added. There was a photo in Tom's pocket that proved it. They'd succeeded in finding the chamber. However, he wouldn't dare show him such a thing. "They had their little club of adventurers and intelligent minds all working to figure out the castle's mysteries.
"A club? Why weren't you allowed to be in the club? You're plenty smart, professor." Tom remarked, with a sort of flattery he knew Slughorn wouldn't be able to tell was fake, even though it was obvious.
"Ha, ha—why thank you, Tom. Now, Elizabeth still confided a few things in me, but they really only wanted the Heir of Slytherin and the rest of the four founders," Slughorn laughed. "Albus has always had a fascination with the power of the descendants. He believed that only they were capable of unlocking the true secrets of the castle, like the Chamber of Secrets."
"Heir of Slytherin?"
"A sort of grand nickname Salazar Slytherin's descendants have been known to be called." Slughorn explained.
"—And who is taking up this nickname currently, professor?" Tom asked, trying to sound casual. His mind flashed to a caption on another one of the old pictures: The Order of the Heirs. It suddenly clicked. Of course all the founders had descendants. Frankie was one of them. If the Heir of Slytherin was who he needed to find the Chamber of Secrets, he'd have to start looking right away. They could have the answers he'd been searching for all his life. Hopefully, it was someone currently in the school and who could be easily swindled into helping him. Tom prayed for literally anyone in his house, but Lyra or Malfoy.
"It's hard to tell. It was Cora Gaunt and her estranged twin brother, back in our day, when they were searching. However, those were the only two to ever come to Hogwarts, since Slytherin himself. The Gaunts have mostly died out, in a vain attempt to keep their blood purity status."
"So, there aren't any more Heir of Slytherin?"
"I'm afraid not. If there are any left, the family name must've changed with marriage." Slughorn answered. He eyed Tom with a bit of suspicion. "This is all hypothetical, of course. You're not attempting to go looking for such a place, now, are you?"
"Of course not, sir. Professor Binns wasn't giving me enough history about the school." Tom smiled, charismatically. "I was just being curious..."
He then "suddenly" remembered that he had to go do some O.W.L studying in the library as well. So, Tom excused himself and hastily retreated. As he was rushing down the corridor, he took the small bundle of photos from his pocket and began to sift through them to find one in particular. He had given most of the photos back to her already, but had secretly taken the most intriguing ones. Even though he knew how often she was looking through the pile, he needed more time with some of them. They were, however, the ones he was sure she wouldn't know were missing. To her they meant practically nothing. Sure enough, he had stolen the one of Cora Gaunt. It was a picture of a dark-haired girl, glaring at the camera, crossing her arms and telling whoever was holding it to turn it off. The back read, "Cora" It looked like a normal shot of a girl, but it was the color of her tie that intrigued him. The photo was black and white; however, you could tell it was a different shade then the ones on Frankie's parents. He didn't like when people judged him and Frankie by their houses, but he couldn't help but wonder why she'd be with them. She couldn't have wanted to help them find her ancestor's secret chamber and there was no way she'd be their friend. Prejudice was still alive back then, so why go anywhere near them? What was her angle?
This little mystery about the Heir of Slytherin and their apparent connection to Frankie's parent's secret club that he'd stumbled upon would have to be tabled for a later trip to the library. Most of his efforts had to be focused on his other subject of research.
Still as tired as ever, but at least free of Professor Slughorn, Tom was able to go to the library. He was still in search for his father, and, after a summer of isolation, it was time to get back to this extensive manhunt. He would often go to the library on Saturdays, spending his time scouring through books for anything about another Tom Riddle. There seemed to be absolutely nothing about his father or any other Riddle for that matter. Tom was starting to think that his father wasn't a wizard at all or perhaps Tom was...Muggleborn. He always immediately shook the thought from his head. There was no way he could be a Mudblood.
Tom had quickly learned the hierarchy of wizarding nobility and structure of this world through his insufferable roommates. They had made it very apparent from the beginning that muggleborns were considered, by anyone with power and sensibility, to be the bottom most scum of society. While no muggleborn had ever personally wronged Tom, he completely understood what made them so foul in the grander scheme. Muggles had wronged him. So, what gave them the right to gain power and join this world, when they so vehemently opposed the idea of it? Magic disgusted them and they went to great lengths to stomp their community out of existence, so why were they given the chance to produce an offspring with magic? Muggleborns descended from filth and filth they should remain. Even though for years in his youth Tom always thought that was what he was, that was all before he learned about this world. Now, the concept of a child just having magic without any wizarding blood in the family had grown toxic in his mind. It made him furious. He was already put on the absolute bottom of the muggle world chain as an orphan, and he refused to be put on the bottom of the wizarding world chain as well. He had been placed in Slytherin house and, considering the founder of their house hated muggleborns too, he was pretty sure they weren't allowed in this house. His father must have been in one of these books somewhere...
"What are you doing, Tom?"
He had been too busy thinking to realize that someone else had joined him at the table. Frankie was in the chair across from him, leaning over the table, mere inches from him, reading his book upside down, and he hadn't noticed. He recoiled in shock and almost slammed her face shut in the book. She retrieved her own book off the table and got up to talk to him properly.
"I'm just doing a bit of extra research." Tom answered, vaguely. He hadn't told Frankie about his Saturday trips to the library. However, she looked down at the book of wizard records and received her answer.
"Me too." She held an Auror record book in her arms and, being in the same year in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he knew it wasn't research for a project or a paper.
"Don't be wasting your O.W.L time on my tragic account. I couldn't bear it if you did poorly because of me."
"I just thought you could use some help." Frankie added, with a small smile. Tom looked quite baffled at her clear and earnest resolve to assist them. Despite his efforts to keep this wild search for his lineage a secret, she'd still gone out of her way to try and help him. "Have you found—"
"No." he answered, before she could even finish. They'd had this conversation many times before and it always went the same way. While Tom was checking exclusively males of wizarding decent, Frankie had other ideas about who might be the source of his magic.
"Are you sure it's not your mo—"
"I'm positive!" Tom snapped, immediately. Why must she always insist on it being his mother? That weak and vile wretch of a woman was dead, and he'd never cared enough about her to even ask Mrs. Cole where she was buried. If his mother had been a witch, surely she would still be alive. Frankie did not get angry by his attitude, as usual, but instead said the simplest thing he dared to forget. A detail he had seemed to overlook so many times it made even him feel foolish.
"Have you tried looking up your middle name? Didn't Mrs. Cole say it was supposed to belong to your grandfather?"
She was right. The only peculiarly uncommon thing about his name was the middle of it. Marvolo. Tom started flipping through books with this new keyword in mind and sure enough he found it in several different wizarding families. However, he chose to pick the one where it appeared most frequently, considering it was probably a name that was supposed to be passed down. The name appeared many times among a grand family tree of, coincidentally, the Gaunts.
There was no sign of any Riddles. He looked towards the shrinking shriveled ends, around the late 1800's to early 1900's. Surely enough, uncle of Cora Gaunt and her brother, Zell, the last Marvolo Gaunt was born around that time. The branch ended with him and his two children Morfin and Merope. Morfin was still presently alive, however, Merope was already gone. His eyes were suddenly glued to her dates immediately and his heart stopped.
Merope Gaunt had died December 31st, 1926.
She was his mother. She just had to be. It was too much of a coincidence to not be true. Her father was named Marvolo, and she died the day he was born. His eyes seemed to regain the ability to move again, and he began to sift down now deeper into the tree. All his family had been wizards. His father must've been a muggle, considering there was no record whatsoever of him or his lineage. His mother really was a witch. He would have been a pureblood wizard to if it wasn't for his vile muggle father.
The name Peverell stuck out at the base of the tree in big letters. It seemed familiar. He had been so focused that he didn't notice Frankie was reading along across the table again. She saw Merope Gaunt and immediately noticed what Tom had. Suddenly, she got up and started searching the bookcases. Frankie pulled a book out with a satisfied look on her face. Whatever she was looking for she had found it. She set it down in front of Tom on the table, hoping it would grab his attention. The title read, Roots Before Branches: The Development of Wizardry and the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Tom picked it up with piqued curiosity. It didn't take him long to find the Peverell's in this book, almost the whole thing was about them. But, that didn't matter. The first couple of sentences said all he needed to know.
"The Peverell family was filled with some of the most powerful witches and wizards of their time. Their great power was most likely to come from their ancestors. It is known for certain that they were direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, one of the four Hogwarts founders..."
He had been keeping it in the back of his mind, just in case Slughorn's information had been a little faulty. However, this was written confirmation that the Gaunts were descendants of Salazar Slytherin. He was a Gaunt now. Which meant, he was a descendant, as well. The Heir of Slytherin. It all made sense now that he thought about it. Considering that he was the only one that he knew of who could speak Parseltongue in Hogwarts, his relationship to Slytherin was obvious. Everyone knew that the only other person who walked these halls that could speak Parseltongue was Salazar Slytherin himself. Tom was suddenly engulfed in a huge wave of pride. Finally, he knew about his family and had discovered he was not just ordinary.
"That's interesting." It was all Frankie could muster to say. Tom had forgotten she was there. However, she had read the book before and knew what it meant.
"Yes." he replied, simply. She was struggling to keep a neutral face, but Tom could tell she was immensely uncomfortable. He didn't get why though. Did she find it odd? Was he not worthy of such a noble heritage? He clearly didn't remember how it felt when he found out that she was a descendant.
After learning about Frankie's lineage, Tom had decided to read up on the founders a little more. At least her family and Gryffindor's lineage. He'd always wondered about how far the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry really went back. Apparently, it went as far back as the core of their houses. Their ancestors had been mortal enemies. At a different time, they had been friends, but, that soon changed with the disagreement on the students admitted to the school. They were the reason the two houses would never get along. Did that mean they were actually fated to become enemies as well?
"Are you really sure that's your mother?" she asked, suddenly, even though she knew it was a stupid question. "I mean—there's no indication she ever had a child—"
"I'm certain this is her." he answered, closing the pureblood book to look down at her name again in the first book.
"How do you know though?"
"It makes sense! I know you don't want to believe it, but it all makes sense," Tom snapped, angrily. He paused, gauging her deteriorating expression. His unreasonable anger wasn't helping his case. "—You know they don't matter anymore. They were way before our time."
"Of course. It was just a silly feud that happened centuries ago. It means nothing..." she mumbled, unconvincingly.
"It changes nothing about how I feel about you." he stated, firmly.
"Well, I'm glad you finally found something," Frankie smiled. It would seem that looking like he didn't care about his past calmed her down a bit. However, he knew her better. She was retreating. "I suppose you don't need me anymore. I have to go back now anyway, but I'll see you tomorrow."
Frankie was gone before Tom could even say goodbye. He could sense she wasn't really alright with this. However, it was only when she ran did he realize why it hurt her so terribly to think about. Cora and Zell Gaunt were personally involved with her parent's demise. While it was still not clear why or how, their names popped up in the cracks of her parent's history and it showed the feud ran much more recent then ancient times. Surely, she was worried that Tom would betray her too. It was a cruel fate that seemed to happen far too often to merely be coincidence. Tom ditched the books and started to run down the corridor after her. He had to fix this. Then, there was another sharp pain in his head, and he was forced to stop in his tracks. It was the voice.
"You realize who you truly are now, right?—It took you long enough. Leave the daft little girl behind and come to the Chamber of Secrets. It is time..."
Tom's feet moved of their own accord and ended up taking him to the girl's bathroom one floor down. Apparently, this was the location of the Chamber of Secrets. God, was his ancestor a pervert or something? Why would he hide his secret chamber in the girl's bathroom, out of all the places in this vast castle he could've put it? He didn't want to go in there. It would look wrong for a boy, especially one who was a prefect, to be found going into the girl's bathroom. Luckily, there weren't any girls in there at the moment. Tom slowly walked over to the sinks and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He tried turning on the sinks. Nothing happened, so he turned them all off again. This must have been some kind of joke. He was starting to walk away when he spotted a tiny snake on the side of one of the taps. After that, the words just seemed to fall out,
"Open up."
The sink glowed brightly and moved out of sight, leaving a large, exposed pipe in its place. Was he supposed to go down that? It felt weird, but it's not like he was just going to walk away after coming in there. He slowly lowered himself into the pipe and slid down. The slide seemed like it was an endless, slimy journey, but eventually he made a crash landing on the damp floor.
"Lumos!" Tom whispered, into the darkness. His wand illuminated to show a sickly scene. The walls were covered in green slime and the floor was hardly seen under the layer of animal bones. He tried to not scrunch up in disgust at the sight of it all and begin to walk down the long tunnel. Turn after turn, the voice was getting louder.
"Nearly there to finally take your rightful place as heir."
"Show yourself!" he shouted, flourishing his illuminated wand. There was nothing but a ghostly silence now. Whatever the voice actually was, it was waiting for him to come to it. Tom sighed and continued down the never-ending tunnel, eager to just get to the end and find the chamber in his dreams and the source of the voice. Finally, he arrived at a wall with two entwined serpents carved into it. They had quite life-like glistening emerald eyes, but alas they were just stone. The voice was behind the wall, and it wasn't a mystery what he had to do to get behind it.
"Open!" Tom hissed, in Parseltongue. The serpents parted as the wall cracked open and the halves slid out of sight. He was now standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber, with towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents that rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness. It was just like in his dreams. He raised his wand and cautiously moved further, keeping his eyes peeled for the smallest sign of movement. The source of the voice was here, yet suddenly all that could be heard was his own footsteps echoing off the grim walls. Tom soon reached the end and stood at the gray feet of a statue high as the chamber itself. It was him. It was Salazar Slytherin.
So, now Tom was here. Where was this thing that was calling him?
Suddenly, sound emanated throughout the chamber, like something slithering upon the damp pavement. He looked around wildly at the serpent pillars, but all of them were still securely stationed as they had been for the past several thousand years.
"Finally, you've arrived. I've been waiting all this time..." the voice hissed, sounding closer than ever. Tom saw a flash of, bright, poisonous green, beginning to slither out of the shadows and immediately shut his eyes. He knew what it was now. "Even though you are my master, I suggest you don't look into my eyes, unless you wish to meet a most horrible demise."
"I already know. I know what you are," Tom replied, a bit too arrogantly for a fifteen-year-old boy talking to an ancient monster. Yes, he was going through a small growth spurt, but it wasn't anywhere near a fifty foot long one. "You're a Basilisk—aren't you? That's why I've been able to hear you."
"Clever boy, as expected of the Heir of Slytherin," the Basilisk said, sounding somewhat impressed. "I've brought you here, so we can finally complete Salazar's noble work. I think you're ready."
"What work would that be?"
"To purge the school of muggleborn and return Hogwarts to a school of blood purity."
"Now, why would I do that?" Tom inquired. It was kind of a big request, considering this was their first meeting. It was practically telling Tom to commit murder, and this was their only conversation thus far. He'd literally just found out he was the Heir of Slytherin like half an hour ago.
"It is Salazar's wish." the Basilisk replied, simply, as if that one fact was enough of a reason to start murdering kids on school property. Of course to a loyal creature, it was more than enough of a reason. However, Tom was always the skeptical type. While he'd been in Slytherin for five years, he wasn't quite sure about pledging his undying loyalty to the Slytherin bloodline and ideals. Despite the signs he would most definitely follow the path towards dark wizardry, he clearly had a reason to resist. The Basilisk could sense it with the long pause and no answer.
"Surely, you can't want a bunch of filthy Mudbloods littering the school, if you're really descended from any of my previous masters. They make a mockery of the institution of wizardry..." the Basilisk reasoned. "All you have to do is call me when you find the identity of one and I shall eliminate it for you."
Tom thought about it seriously and gave it a good moment of deep thinking, despite how dangerous it was to do so. Was Cora Gaunt given this same offer and still decided to befriend Frankie's mother? What happened to her for choosing to side with the traitorous line? Surely, the same fate would befall him, if he said no. There could only be so much skepticism the Basilisk could handle before it snapped at him. Although, he clearly didn't like muggleborns, it certainly wasn't to the extent Salazar Slytherin wanted it to be. It was indirect murder, but it'd be murder by his will. The blood would still be on his hands. Despite that being the road everyone at the orphanage assumed he was going down; he had never once seriously thought about killing someone. What was to be gained from the annihilation of muggleborn students? Perhaps a better school. They'd still exist in the world; it would just eliminate any possibility of them being able to attend Hogwarts with the real witches and wizards. He was starting to see things the Basilisk's way a little more. However, Tom also didn't want to find out what would happen to him if he said no. He may have been a direct descendant, but Tom was not the creature's proper master until he gave it his answer.
"Alright. I will honor my ancestor's wish and purge this place of muggleborns, as the Heir of Slytherin." Tom answered, finally. The Basilisk let out what was hopefully a delighted hiss. The monster slithered away, and Tom was free to start getting to work.
After following some promising looking stairs, Tom appeared on the other side of the sinks a few minutes later. He turned on the sink as soon as the stairs transformed back and started to try and clean himself up a little bit. He was definitely going to need to wash his uniform five times, at least.
"Who's there?" a voice asked, suddenly, from the other side.
Tom ducked behind the sinks. He assumed there had been no one here when he went in and there would be no one when he came back. How much had the girl seen? However, as he was busy worrying about being seen, he didn't notice that the girl was leaning over the sinks staring down at him. "Tom? You do know this is the girl's restroom, don't you?"
He looked up and there was Frankie hovering above him. Out of all the people he didn't want to catch him in the girl's bathroom covered in crap, she was most certainly the first.
"Is it? I genuinely had no idea..." Tom replied, feigning stupidity and clumsiness.
"We've been going to this school for five years. How could you not know?" she asked.
"It's not like I keep detailed tabs on all the girl's bathrooms—alright?!" he argued, sounding affronted by her accusations.
"Even if you didn't know this was a girl's bathroom. You're a prefect. A BOY"— A few girls could be heard jumping up in shock from the stalls at the violently emphasized word—"prefect which means you use their bathrooms, anyway. I find it difficult to believe you don't know where those are by now." Frankie reasoned. He was out of arguments and could hear the other girls whispering about coming out to check if Frankie was telling the truth. It was really hard to enjoy the fact that after nearly sixteen years of dreadful life he finally knew where he belonged in the world when the girl he adored was practically dragging him through the mud. This was utterly humiliating.
"—and look at the state of you! I saw you literally an hour ago. How in the bloody hell did you get so filthy? Did someone dunk you directly in the toilet?"
"Can we please talk about this later?—If this really is the girl's bathroom, I'd really better be off now." Tom smiled, politely. It was seriously time to make a quick exit. He hastily ran for the door before she could answer back. She had done the exact same thing to him earlier and, like he did earlier, she felt the need to run after him.
However, also like him, she was never quite able to catch up.