Lies and falsehoods, armour made of ambition and cruelty. Irremediably, Tom Riddle's destiny has been written from the beginning, foreseeing a dark and deviant path. But to everything there is an exception, and Anastasia Atwell did not know she was...
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Marcus Avery
"Can you stop for even a second?"
Anastasia tugged at her arm, trying to escape Tom's grasp. The boy had his hand firmly around her wrist, dragging her outside the Common Room, away from the shouting and celebration. No one had noticed them, and it certainly didn't take long to realise that there was no prefects' meeting planned and that something was wrong.
They had been walking for minutes now, although Anastasia could not tell where they were really going. What she did know for sure, however, was that she had his diary clutched in her other hand and had been trying to tell him since he had snuck up on her without even looking at her face.
"Please, can you tell me where the hell you're taking me? I don't think after a game like that the prefects are keen to meet you!"
Tom tightened his grip around her wrist for a moment, which is why Anastasia grunted in pain and realised that she had probably said something wrong. Not that it wasn't reality, and they both knew that much. But by the looks of it, the time was not right for such jokes.
"Oh dear. Riddle, are you listening to me?" Tom seemed to have his eyes ablaze with anger. He was wondering how they had found his diary, if they had even read it. If Anastasia already knew about that diary and if she knew its contents. If she had tried to write in it. "Tom!"
Within seconds, Tom unceremoniously opened the door to a small room whose existence Anastasia knew absolutely nothing about. It was small, but not too small - although her back was practically stuck to the wall, there was enough room for both of them to stay apart. But Tom didn't seem to think so.
"What did you call me?"
The girl raised an eyebrow as she looked at him with confusion. She had never called him by his first name by an unwritten law, they had never gotten so close that she had the luxury of pronouncing those three letters. Anastasia doubted that Jonah could do that either, that anyone who knew him had ever called him by his first name in his presence. But, in her defence, the name had escaped her lips without even realising it. He'd been dragging her around the entire school for minutes, without explanation or even a glance at her. If that had finally put the brakes on him, it had been worth the risk.
"Atwell."
"Yes, I know. Sorry!" she replied immediately, wrinkling her nose. Was that really the biggest problem at the moment? "You grabbed me by the wrist without question, feeding me an obvious lie, and you wouldn't answer me. It just slipped out."
He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Don't let it happen again," he murmured, before dropping his gaze to her hand. He swallowed when the journal caught his eye. "You have something that belongs to me."
