Painful Redemption | T. R.

Chapter Nineteen

The first light of morning caressed Anastasia's face as she struggled against the urge to still be curled up under quintals of warm, comfortable blankets. For the first time in what seemed to have been endless months, the girl had been able to indulge and enjoy a long night's rest without any interruption. No sickness, no bad dreams. Simply, a good, healthy sleep that she seemed to need so much.

Those faint rays of sunlight seemed to happen her face, as with half-closed eyes she turned over on the mattress. The night before, she had wished her friends a good night, and they had promised to help her escape from school for their shopping spree. "Just enough time to find the perfect outfit for both of you," Walburga had said, smiling sweetly at the two girls. "Then we'll be back. I promise."

It took some good will and stamina on Anastasia's part to get herself out of that bed, albeit reluctantly. Glancing quickly at the wooden clock hanging on the wall, she realized that she had plenty of time to head to the bathrooms and take a long, relaxing shower to give herself the wake-up call she needed before meeting her friends.

The warm water slid against her skin as she gently stroked her scalp, while under her breath she hummed an undefined tune, just to stay awake enough not to lose track of time.

Given the occasion, and the fact that they needed to feel as comfortable as possible in order to try on the various outfits without wasting time that wasn't necessary, Anastasia wore a pair of high-waisted brown slacks that hugged her hips gently, and a black turtleneck sweater inside them. Fashion was changing fast, and as much as she wasn't all that fond of it, she had to admit that that change in clothing was not only revolutionary, but liberating.

She let her long blonde hair fall loosely past her back, a little wavy from the humidity, and frankly, she didn't have the time to keep dabbing it with the towel in an attempt to shorten it. Or at least, she thought so. Until, after applying light makeup to her face, she realized, casting a glance from through her bedroom mirror, that she had enough time to relax a little more. Anastasia brought a hand to her face, shaking it gently. So much running, only to be early. Knowing her friends, she'd have to wait quite a bit longer. Hopefully they'd woken up in time.

Sighing and holding a coat under her arms, now surrendered to her fate, the girl silently made her way to the common room. Besides, it was still early and most likely, most of the students wanted to take advantage of that day off to get some more rest before resuming their studies. And she couldn't possibly blame them. 

As she expected, the common room was empty. The fire was out, silence reigned supreme. It almost seemed like a mirage to her, yet it was all true. But she took advantage of the circumstances to cross the room, and reach the doors. Their meeting point was the gardens, and he preferred to wait for them there, since it was shaping up to be a magnificent winter day, but a warm one, given the clear sky and the sun as high and bright as ever, unusual for the season, especially in their country.

But as she was about to step into the corridors of the dungeons, someone chose to interrupt her train of thought by simply waving at her. "Good morning, Miss."

Anastasia turned suddenly, caught off guard. If up until that moment she thought she was the only one awake at that hour, she immediately had to change her mind. Clearly, someone had beaten her to it. Dressed in a pair of comfortable dark pants, a sweater with grey tones that seemed to bring out his eyes, Tom Riddle had a cigarette clutched between his lips. Although the girl thought he was simply an early riser, his tired eyes said otherwise.

Anastasia clutched her coat to her chest, tilting her head to one side as she surveyed the face of a boy who was clearly sleep-deprived. "Good morning, Riddle. Or should I say, good night?" she chose to comment wryly on the boy's appearance as he accompanied a hand to his lips so he could grasp his cigarette between his long fingers.