the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter twenty-seven

THE ANATOMY OF FELIXIUS PARKIN - KINDNESS

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

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The sound of logs crackling in the fireplace should have been a blissful, remarkable ode that soothed any worrisome thought which might have tormented the wandering mind. Instead, it was a scratched disk that played in reverse, out-of-tune resonance that irritated Felixius Parkin's troubled psyche. Tawny irises were lined with scarlet burst vessels, and lilac patches adorned the under-eye as the boy trailed one hand over his unshaven face, stare aloof and hair disheveled. He felt broken.

The uncharacteristic whiskey glass on his desk had stained one of the essays left unmarked, and with a soft string of curses, he moved frantic hands to clear up the space, pushing papers of all kinds aside and pressing a damp cloth to the side of his glass. A shaky breath left his lips as his eyes landed on one otherwise trivial copy of the Daily Prophet, and the headline made his heart ache all over again. Now, he remembered why he had placed stacks of work over it.

Abraxas Malfoy's face was crude and sharp on the front page, a worrisome title that announced the rumors of his involvement with a muggle-born witch, and as the picture moved, his sneer deepened in a mind-baffling way. Platinum hair was pushed back, and a dark suit covered his tall frame as he attempted to move away from the camera that flashed with luminosity. Still, he looked all the more aristocratic, all the more sophisticated.

And in the bottom corner, an absolutely enchanting picture of Della Beauchamp, showcasing her delicate features and heart-shaped face as bushy eyebrows hoisted in surprise at being photographed. It was still unclear who had given the newspaper such detailed information on the sightings of the two together, as well as pictures from the Hogwarts class book, yet Felix thought it mattered less.

Some part of him wanted to hate them. Hate them for the way they had toyed with those around them, like pawns in a game of chess, only there to serve as sacrifices until they conquered the king, whoever that ended up being.

In the grand scheme of things, Felix was aware that Della's involvement with Abraxas might have been an unfortunate circumstance of their months spent together, and although astringent on the tongue, the taste of treachery was as aggravating as it was disheartening. Because in the end, Felix thought himself to be the biggest fool there ever was. And he hated himself for being blinded by rose-colored lenses more than he could ever despise the pair.

The knock on his door was curt, almost as if whoever stood on the other side of the door was undecided on their intention of bothering the apprentice. With a quick sigh, Felix pushed himself up from the desk, stumbled to his feet as the headache drummed in his temples, then staggered to the entrance and swung it open to reveal Newton Scamander.