Across any Divide

Chapter 15

Matteo cradled a glass of firewhiskey against his chest. He'd lost count of the hours and drinks as they'd passed by while he sullenly sat in a chair in the common room, staring into the fire. He sat there in silence, never making a sound or a single movement except to lift the glass to his lips, but his mind refused to be quiet.

The Bonaccord girl couldn't be here because of the Reflection Program. It didn't make sense - he hadn't seen her at the ball the night before when people were meeting their matches, so why would she be here if it wasn't for her mirror match?

Unless she saw him.

The thought had him sitting straight up. What if he was wrong? What if she could see him in her mirror, and she'd seen him at the ball?

Would she have transferred here for him without so much as a conversation with him? A sour taste filled his mouth, and he washed it away with the burn of firewhiskey.

He fucking hoped she didn't, because she was going to be sorely disappointed if that was the case. He had no inclination to speak to her - no intentions of fulfilling whatever Ministry-bound duties they had, and certainly none of a ridiculous happy ending with her. The very thought made him snort - as if.

If she had seen him, she hadn't come spoken to him. Even at breakfast when she'd gotten into it with Weasley she hadn't spared him a second glance.

The mixed signals made his head spin more than the alcohol, and Matteo desperately wished for the ability to turn off the voices in his head that were screaming at the arrival of his destiny.

His destiny. Over his dead fucking body, Bonaccord or not.

"Been looking for you," Draco's voice came from behind him, and the next moment the lanky white haired boy was sliding into the seat next to him. Riddle didn't even glance over at him; simply took another swig from his glass and passed him the bottle.

"I've been here."

"That's what I've heard," Draco answered dryly, surveying his friend closely. Riddle's school uniform was wrinkled and mussed, his hair unkept and straggly. "Some third year said you haven't moved in nearly four hours."

Riddle blinked, eyes red from exaughstion and alcohol, "Sounds about right."

Draco's brow furrowed, but he tried again. "Care to explain what the hell has you in such a mood?"

Riddle turned to look at him then, his gaze as broken and empty it had been the day the war had ended. "Our miserable existences aren't enough reason?"

"You're cheerful today," Theodore Nott joined them, looking dismally down at Riddle, taking in his petulant demeanor and unkempt appearance. "For the love of Merlin - would it absolutely kill you to be happy?"

"Probably," Matteo snorted, "It's the only thing I haven't tried."

Theo shot Draco a glance to which Malfoy only shrugged. He hadn't the slightest idea what had put Riddle in a mood, and he wasn't sure he wanted to force the matter. Theo took the seat next to Draco, attempting to change the topic of conversation.

"Any luck with your mirrors?"

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Before Draco could so much as shake his head, Matteo was on his feet glaring at Theo. "I swear on the fucking dark magic in my veins, if you've come over here only to make small talk about the cunts the Ministry has saddled us with, I will kill you and throw your body in one of my father's unmarked mass graves."

Theo blinked blankly up into Matteo's furious face, his dark eyes so clinically angry and like his fathers that for a moment Theo said nothing. And then, "We really need to do something about your temperament, mate. It's getting a tad out of hand."