The Noctiphany Terror •Tom Riddle•

7. Innocently Guilty

The week was drawing to a close, and with each passing hour, Hydra's anxiety deepened at the thought of returning home. She slipped out of bed and trudged to the bathroom, her steps slow, as if she could delay time. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting warm light across the room, but all Hydra craved was the soft embrace of sleep for just a few more hours. Today, the thought of classes felt unbearable. Thankfully, the first one was her favourite, Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Merrythought.

It was a class she didn't want to skip. Reluctantly, she tugged on the uncomfortable uniform and fastened her hair into a tight, low bun, determined not to let it distract her during the duels. Delilah was still wrapped in slumber when Hydra emerged from the bathroom, so she padded over to her bed and gently shook her shoulder.

"Wake up, Lilah," Hydra murmured as she leaned in to rouse her.

Delilah stirred, her brows furrowing as she blinked into the morning light, and then slowly dragged herself from the blanket's warmth.

"You'd better hurry if you want to catch breakfast," Hydra said, smoothing the covers on her bed.

Delilah was ready in record time. Barely ten minutes had passed before she was standing in front of Hydra, ready to go. It wasn't every day she saw Delilah without makeup and neatly styled hair. Instead, she wore a loose ponytail, and her face was bare, eyes puffy with sleep, and lips slightly swollen.

Even so, Hydra could not help but steal a few glances at Delilah. She had that quiet kind of beauty, subtle, but impossible to ignore. A few blonde strands had slipped free and framed her slightly flushed face. And though her blue eyes were still heavy with sleep, they held the same warm and affectionate gaze that made her look like the kindest soul in the world.

They walked side by side towards the Great Hall, hurrying to catch a few scones before breakfast ended. But just as they reached the towering wooden doors, Delilah stopped with a small gasp.

There, leaning against the stone wall, Jacob was waiting for her. His hair was meticulously slicked back, and he wore perfectly pressed beige trousers with a crisp long-sleeved shirt that clung to his thin frame. In his arms, he held a wooden basket, draped with a deep blue plaid cloth.

"Breakfast picnic?" Hydra drawled, unable to hide her smirk, "What's next, Jacob? Poetry under a tree? Perhaps..." she paused dramatically, eyeing him up and down, "a serenade?"

Jacob rolled his eyes, then leaned down to kiss Delilah on top of her head. "Morning, beautiful."

"Merlin spare me," Hydra shuddered, trying to avert her gaze.

And to her dismay, Jacob slightly dipped Delilah as he kissed her, slow and sweet, as if the moment demanded music and candlelight.

Before Hydra even had the chance to react to their ridiculously sweet moment, someone gagged right behind her.

It was no other than Serenity. She had one hand clutched to her stomach like the sight had physically wounded her. Hydra burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the rather empty hall. Serenity doubled over beside her.

"Stop," Hydra's voice was strained, eyes watering, "I was trying to enjoy the show."

"Please," Serenity scoffed, flinging an arm around Hydra's shoulders, "you were two seconds from shoving your fingers down your throat."

"Stop it," Delilah groaned, grabbing Jacob's hand.

"Did you rehearse that dip in the mirror?" Hydra asked, suddenly serious. "Be honest."

Serenity snorted behind her hand, while Hydra bit her bottom lip, trying to keep a straight face.

"Not funny," Jacob muttered, shaking his head like he was already exhausted by the theatrics.