Dusk Till Dawn {tom riddle}

part five - snitches

"Where the hell have you been?" Ginny trodded up to you, her quidditch uniform slung over one arm and her broom gripped by the other. "Don't tell me you've been-"

"--with the Duke, yes I have." You crossed your arms around your books tighter, your stomach beginning to churn as dinner quickly approached. "I'll explain it to you later, but right now I have to talk to Hermione about Charms class."

Ginny pulled on your forearm hard, restraining you from going any further. Her eyes cautioned you; they were filled with sincerity and worry.

"Are you- let me rephrase this- should I be worried? And be honest, don't give me any of that mystifying bullshit."

You stared at your friend, unconsciously realizing that the pattern of her freckles resembled that of Mattheo's. You smiled at the thought.

"Not at all, Ginny. It's honestly just another one of Dumbledore's fucked up games," You lightly tugged away from her, taking a few strides backward slyly.

"Just?"

"I'll see you later tonight, alright-"

You felt a firm chest bump right into your back, followed by a subtle There you are, and a tight tug on the shoulder. You looked up and saw Tom, his eyebrows fixed in its standard furrowed state, scaring off nearly every ongoing that dared to look in your direction. Before you could even properly say goodbye to your friend, he dragged you alongside him.

He let go quickly, wiping his hand on the sides of his pants like he had contracted a disease. You grinned and leaned closer towards Tom, watching his eyes dart between you and the space in front of him in annoyance.

"Don't tell me you were planning on skipping the dinner tonight," Tom's voice was more disgruntled than anything. "Mattheo has already made arrangements for you as our guest."

"Oh, I'd just hate to miss the most extravagant event of the year." You rolled your eyes at him. "You must have little faith in me."

"Extremely," Tom assured, his cold glare fixed on the guard that lingered ten feet before you two. "And while my brother may foolishly throw himself at you, know that my trust is not something I provide on a silver platter."

"Speaking of silver platters," Your eyes danced across the walls of the Royal Wing as you entered through the large front doors. Servants were gathered around round tables where members of the crown were seated, taking little nibbles of various desserts. "I thought the dinner party wasn't supposed to start in another four hours."

"Teatime." Tom frowned as if it were basic knowledge. "Why else would I have brought you here?" A young servant dressed in a frivolous purple apron pulled out a chair for the Duke as he promptly took a seat. The boy repeated the gesture, this time staring directly at you. You paused, unsure of the royal formalities. How were you supposed to sit? Were you supposed to say thank you to the servant or would that be abnormal? Tom didn't greet the boy, but then again, who's to say his manners were the correct ones?

You spotted a third chair, just next to yours and across from Tom's, creating a perfectly-sided triangle.

"Will your brother be joining us, too?" You remained standing upwards and Tom lowered his eyebrows again, motioning for you to take a seat. His stare was cold, divulging your skin and making your insides squirm; you did not like being watched by him. Defeatedly, you took a seat beside him, and truthfully, you couldn't tell which made your body temperature drop more: the iciness of the gold-encrusted chair or Tom's harboring glower.

"He will if he remembers." You didn't ask him what he meant by that, instead, you played your part and took a biscuit from the center tray. An attendant nearby was quick to replace it with another one, an endless stream of desserts it seemed.