Perfidy | Tom Riddle |

16.

Classes for the rest of the day were canceled until the unknown reason behind Riddles' injury was resolved. Even the slug club was postponed until further notice. A churning sense of overwhelming guilt had overridden her, as she spent most of the day hiding in her room scared to face any of them.

But still, the image of him screaming and the smell of burnt flesh wouldn't escape her memories. Why should she feel terrible, it's not like Tom felt any remorse for what he did to her.

Pacing back and forth she began to voice her thoughts out loud. "That doesn't mean I'll stoop low to his excessive level."

"I bet he's probably planning some way right now to horribly disfigure my face once he gets better."

"Pft it's not like I purposely hurt him as he did with me."

Stopping in her tracks, realizing she probably looks like a crazed person she had decided to be the better person and visit Riddle while he scarcely laid in the infirmary. Right before leaving she swiftly gripped something knowing she definitely requires and placed it in her robes.

Some part of her had hoped he would be alone, but she knew better after recognizing the six friends surrounding him. Abraxas had spotted her then cleared his throat loudly while wiggling his anxious eyes towards the boys.

There was no petty bickering, no vicious fighting, not even an angry remark from Lestrange. Not knowing for sure if she was in the clear, Lyra made her way towards Riddle's right side.

When he was asleep, the moonlight hit at an angle where one could mistake him for an angel. The full plump lips, the long eyelashes, and the sharp marble carved cheeks. His unconscious lips look soft.

Forcibly pulling her head out of the gutter, wanting to correct her wrongs, she reached for the vile in her robes, while pulling it out Lestrange seized her wrist causing her to almost drop it.

"I'm not here to incapacitate him. I came to heal him and help relieve the burning pain he's probably going through." he didn't mention anything instead he maintained his steady grip and towered over her. "Lestrange if I apply the potion and it inadvertently causes him even more damage I grant you full permission to hex me."

"I'll hold you to your word then."

Letting her aggressively go, Lyra sat down at his side and began to unfold the bloodstained bandages wrapped around his arm. The sight was gruesome, from below his elbow down to his fingers sores and blisters spread his arm, the burnt flesh smell still lingering with the sight of bone laying behind the melted skin. Carefully adding five drops in total, she stepped back and observed a new layer of raw skin began to grow. Though it didn't completely heal right away for there was too much damage, it would take five drops administered every hour for both the pain and wound to go away.

She handed the vile to Lestrange, "Apply it the same way I did, five drops every hour and it'll completely go away, though it'll leave an extremely faint scar." picking and prying apart the cracked skin around her nails nervously, "Also don't apply any bandages around it, the new skin needs to breathe for it's extremely fragile right now." She possessed a peculiar habit of walking away after completing her own sentence to avoid people's reactions.

Tossing uneasily and turning frantically for anxious hours she couldn't sleep. He resided in her memories indeed causing her discomfort in her own dreams. Frustrated she grabbed a cardigan and hurled it over her nightgown. Placing her cigarette box and the lighter Abraxas had given to her into the pocket she established her way towards the Astronomy Tower, where she would watch in disgust as Blaise and Draco would smoke.

Positioning herself by the ledge, feet dangling precariously in the windless air she took a minor second to take in the fresh crisp air. Popping the cigarette between her teeth, she inflamed it and took a long drag. She didn't think of anything. Not Tom, not about the terrible future, her reason being here but nothing. As she was about to realign the burning cigarette into her mouth, it was snatched out of her hand.

Riddle?

He took a seat next to her still in the hospital nightgown, legs dangling off the overhanging ledge, and began impulsively to smoke as well. All she merely did was pull another out and light it for herself. They didn't say anything, not even looked at each other, and it stayed like that for a few minutes.

"Lestrange informed me what you did." he broke the silence first. Flipping his right hand up and down now completely healed with new skin growth, a faint red scar was still left behind.

"I'm not apologizing."

"I'm not thanking you."

They blurted out at the same time while looking at each other, she turned away first staring back out into the created void.

Riddle eyed at her extremely short nightgown if one would scarcely consider it that and wandered his curious eyes down to the noticeable scars that were visibly present on her thighs. He next looked at her exposed neck and realized she used a cloaking spell to conceal the marks of his hands.

He caressed her hair back to capture a more pleasing sight of her neck and with a faint whisper, the bruises were no longer hidden. She didn't flinch at his hand which felt unusual, his touch not pulling away from her neck lingering the narrow area.

She rotated her exposed body diligently, looking at him, feeling comforted in some way, she hated it but at the same time, it felt oddly right.

Why am I allowing him to caress me, especially after what he did?

He wouldn't move his hand, his fingertips gently brushing back and forth to the spotty canvas he'd left behind "It's impossible but can we start all over? No ball duel, no potions bickering, no nothing. I'm not saying let's kiss and make up then be the best of friends, but that maybe we try to stop killing or gravely injure one another Tom."

"I secure no promises Lyra," he muttered fiercely and for the first time he had tasted her name on the tip of his tongue.

Lyra.

After removing his hand from her neck, he lingered onto the gritty floor merely an inch away from her right thigh, visibly staring at it wondering the stories behind them.

She instantly felt her breathing hitch with his hand being so close yet distantly far from her thigh but was it because of fear? He was suspiciously eyeing her ragged scars not even trying to conceal the fact he is,

"A modified sectumsempra curse, the scar runs until my hip. I couldn't walk for days," she noted him studying her thighs as if they were pages to a book.

This was his moment to discover some sort of information about her. "Why were you hit with a curse like that?" He placed his finger on the beginning of the scar slowly dragging it up along the pink lines , enjoying the warmth emitting from her skin and coming to a halt when he met with the thin short fabric of her nightgown.

"We're in a war are we not?" her eyes were fixated on his fingers that stayed still.

"You've been fighting in the war?" But which side did she fight for, a reasonable question considering her temper and gifted knowledge of the dark arts, something tells him it's not Grindelwald's side but one can never assume.

Forcing his hand away she stood up, "It's late and you need to be resting right now not playing 20 questions with me."

He stood up barring her, so she wouldn't walk away, "I'm fine."

Vanilla, smoke, old books, and mahogany teakwood. He was so close to her, his chest practically pressed against her, his scent intoxicating her. She couldn't allow it to affect her more than it already did. Her heart began to beat so loudly she feared he could hear it with how close he was.

Placing her hand on his chest, easing him a little away from her, "No you're not, and neither am I, we both need to rest. Good night Tom."

She left him standing there all alone in the dark with his thoughts filled about those scars and her warmth. But what drove him mad was not the fact she brushed him off, no. But how in the moment he was pressed against her his nose was greeted by taunting smell of raspberry lemon, smoke, lavender, and cherries.

Greeted by her.