He signaled for her to meet him.
"What do you want from me?" She asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
He smiles. "Darling, there are a lot of things I want from you."
She shakes her head.
"Please. Just leave me be. Stop trying to get inside my head."
"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow and took a step closer. "So I'm inside your head?"
She turned away as he placed a finder under her chin. This touch that graced her dreams and nightmares alike was at once so strange yet familiar to her.
"Don't even try to deny it, Abi. You need me." he whispered.
"But you don't need me anymore." She said sadly. "You got what you wanted, didn't you? You have your revenge now. I'm just a broken tool now."
"Thats not true. Not even close." He said, their faces now very, very close. When he talked, she could feel his lips gently brush against hers.
"I was just a pawn in your game." She whispered. "What more do you want from me?"
"The game isn't finished, baby. Finish it for me, won't you?"
She pulled away, tears streaming down her face.
"Even now, you still want to use me, Tom Riddle. What am I to you? Did you ever-" She stopped, her voiced breaking before she could finish the sentence. She waited for a sweet lie, knowing that he would give her one.
With his thumb, he brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "I don't want to see you cry."
She shook her head. "Leave me be. You've done enough."
"You're so sad, Abi. Stop beating yourself up for something that was never your fault. Let it go."
"I'm not like you, Tom Riddle. I can't take innocent lives and not even blink an eye." She whispered. Once upon a time, she thought that he felt remorse for all he has done. Myrtle's death, and many more nameless faces in his pursuit of dark magic, wealth, and revenge.
But she realized how terribly wrong she was. He never even batted an eye. Never lost a minute of sleep. To him, his victims were nothing but dust and ashes, faceless bodies to torture, to kill.
She hoped each and every day that he had a heart, but alas, she was wrong.
"And that is why I love you." He said, pulling her closer despite her protests. In his strong arms, however cold, she was weak. He places a finger up to her face and traced over her lip.
"You don't love me. You're not capable of love."
He pressed his lips on top of hers and forced his tongue inside, exploring her mouth, making her melt underneath his touch. He grabbed her thigh and ran his hands up it, feeling her soft skin underneath her skirt.
She gasped.
He pushed her further, one hand digging into her thin waist, the other traveling higher and higher up.
She pushed him off.
"You don't get it, do you? You know what I want from you, Tom. You know, but you'll never give it to me. Because you don't have it...I've given you the best years of my life and everything I have... Tom Riddle. What have you given me?" She cried.
Pain. Betrayal. Hatred.
But at the same time...he gave her a brand new world. He was her whole world.
When she was four years old, she looked into those dark eyes and saw purpose. He was her purpose. He took her hand and led her down the fatal path, yet she loved very single second of it.
He tortured her with no mercy, yet she loved the pain he gave her.
His lips held sweet poison, and she drank up every drop of it.
He gave her heartbreak, but at the same time, he showed her what true happiness felt like. Happiness was when he loved her. Happiness was when she could hold him in her arms and feel his heartbeat. Happiness was seeing the rare, true smile that was only reserved for her light up his beautiful face.
That, was what heaven felt like.
And for that one, single moment, she would trade her life over again.
For this love that she dreamt of, she had sacrificed everything she had and much more.
Why won't you love me, Tom Riddle?
She looked at him, and he looked back.
He could hear the thoughts running through her mind. He felt the sadness radiate off of her.
If I had a heart, I would give it to you.
She waited for a response. She waited and waited her whole life that someday, he might see past everything and settle down for her. That he would take the world off his shoulders and just hold her.
He leans in, and she couldn't resist his pull.
...........................................................
Sam wandered around the corridors after breakfast, having a free period.
He wanted to search for either Cassie or Abigail, but was unable to find either of them.
"Mate...last night was so sick. Renee Bellwig was on fucking fire. I swear, I've never had a girl with an ass like that." Lestrange bragged of his conquest to his friends, who snickered and whistled.
Avery half-heartedly clapped Lestrange's back. "Congrats, mate."
Sam saw the group and was about to spin on his heel and walk in the other direction. Avery, however, saw him.
Sam eyed him tentatively and walked away in the other direction. Avery hesitated a moment before leaving his friends and walking down the hall.
"Hey!" Avery called as they turned the corner.
Sam stops.
"What do you want?" Sam said, trying to keep any emotion out of his voice, but unable to control the butterflies raging in his stomach. That night in the train station, however, Avery had made it clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Sam.
Avery hesitated a moment before speaking.
"I just...I just want you to stop, Sam. Whatever you're doing. Just stop it."
"Is that all you wanted to say? You followed me all the way here just to say that garbage? You've already said this before." Sam said, hurt.
"Please...don't do this to me." Avery whispered. "Please just leave me be and let me live!"
"I'm not doing anything to you. It's your own doing, Miles."
"Then tell me! How can I be at peace? You started this, Sam. Now you have to end it so my life can go back to normal..." Avery asked, taking step closer.
"You don't even know me, Sam. You don't even know how fucked up I am. You don't know the things I took part in...if you did, you would fucking hate me."
"You're so angry, Miles...if you need to talk, I'm always here, you know. Whatever you want to talk about."
Avery leaned against the wall and sighed. He felt something coming on, but he stopped it before it could reach his face.
"No. I can't...I can't just burden you with my bullshit."
"It's not bullshit."
"It's none of your business...the more you know, the more you'll hate me."
"I will never hate you. You know that." Sam said quietly. He knew it was a rash thing to do, but he was following his heart instead of his brain, and his heart could one be reined back by restrictions or rationales. "You knew that from that night in the garden."
Avery looks at Sam, and his heart flutters intensely. Here was a someone who really felt for him. No one has ever felt for him like this. The girls he touch and kissed only liked Miles Avery the star seeker, Miles Avery the rich, popular boy. But Sam was different.
Sam saw how he was hurting, and Sam wanted to understand Miles Avery, the tortured, conflicted soul.
Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it wasn't normal. But fuck it, whatever.
Avery pulled forward and pressed his lips against Sam's for the third time, and felt heaven again for the first time in a very long time.
They pulled each other closer, and closer, and closer. Avery's tongue explored, and Sam shivered gently under his intense touch.
Out of breath, they pulled apart, and all Sam could see were Avery's clear blue eyes.
"Maybe we should do this more often," Avery whispered, his hand resting on Sam's cheek.
"Maybe we should." Sam laughed gently.
That night, Sam jumped on his bed and smiled. Life wasn't back to normal. Perhaps it never will be. But perhaps he doesn't want it to. Something was so magical about the night, and its endless possibilities. He thought of those strong arms, those soft lips, the smile that wooed an entire stadium and sunk into bliss.
His friends were at a party, drinking and smoking their tired night away. Avery slipped out and went back to his dorm, needing a moment alone. He stared at the ceiling and a smile crept onto his lips. It felt so wrong. But at the same time, it felt so right and so good. He closed his eyes, and hoped he might dream about him tonight.
Abigail sat at the edge of the bed, watching Tom Riddle's bare chest rise and fall. She gently traced the angelic curve of his dark eyebrow with her fingers, then sliding them down to his collar. She wrapped her hands around his neck.
He was a monster, through and through. He has destroyed her life, and many, many more. he was ruthless, dangerous, a force of havoc. She realized that he wasn't an angel, and never was. He was a demon straight from the fiery depths of hell, born to bring ultimate destruction. What made him so scary wasn't that he was strong. Or vicious. But it was his innate charm, his beautiful eyes, his angelic smile, and his words that played like a sirens song.
But she could never.
She wrapped the sheets tighter around her bare torso as a single tear fell out her eye. She could never hurt him. Never. She must accept that she was trapped by those stormy eyes, forever caught in the eye of the hurricane.
But if she had a choice, she would do it all over again, and again.
And again.