𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔫

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔬𝔫𝔢

𝔎𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔞'𝔰 𝔭𝔬𝔳

      Making my way down the stairs, I smile at the Knights, who are gathered together in fancy clothes, champagne glasses in their hands. "Come to celebrate New Year's with us?" Rosier asks, grabbing a second champagne glass. I smile at him. "Why not?" I take the glass of champagne from Rosier. "Where's Tom?" I ask, noticing that everyone is here except for him. Even Abraxas is here. "He doesn't do holidays. He's in his chambers," Rosier answers. I nod. "How much time do we have until New Year's?" I ask. He pulls out his pocket watch, glancing down at it. "Ten minutes exactly."

      I nod my head and look up at the staircase that leads to my chambers.

      To Tom Riddle's chambers.

      Grabbing a second glass of champagne, I mumble an excuse to go back upstairs and make my way up the same staircase that I came down from before, heading to Tom Riddle's chambers against my better judgment.

      I do that a lot now that I think about it. Go against my better judgment when it comes to him. That is something I will have to remedy quickly if I am going to keep a clear head.

      Walking down the hall that holds both my and Tom Riddle's chambers, I come face to face with the double doors that lead to Tom Riddle's chambers. I chew on my lip, mustering up the courage to go inside. Or the stupidity.

      I open the doors with magic. When I step inside, I see Tom Riddle on his bed, diary in hand. His eyes whip to mine when he hears the doors that lead to his chambers shut. "Do they not teach you people how to knock in Russia?" I raise the glasses of champagne in my hands. How am I supposed to knock with them?

      He rolls his eyes before setting his diary down on the bed, standing up. He walks over to me, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion as to why I am here. I extend my right hand, offering him the champagne. "I don't drink," he says, his eyes flickering to the skinny glass in my hand. "Neither do I but I'm making an exception for tonight. It is New Year's, after all," I counter. He intakes a short breath before reluctantly taking the champagne glass. He walks over to his balcony, pulling the doors open with magic before setting the skinny glass down on the stone railing. He leans over the railing, looking at the forest before him.

      Swallowing my nerves, I walk forward and make my way out onto the balcony. Taking a sip of my champagne, I walk up to him and stand at his side. "Happy sixteenth birthday." His eyes shoot to mine, but he doesn't turn his head. "It was in your file," I tell him, answering the question I know he is about to ask.

      "I don't celebrate my birthday."

      "I don't either. It has a very long and complicated story to go along with it, and memories that I would rather forget," I tell him, not elaborating on the details. "But you should at least celebrate the new year," I say, turning my head towards him.