Princess - A Tom Riddle Fan Fiction

Chapter 33

The beauty of it all pains me.

--

A few days with Tom is pure loneliness. His attitude doesn't change. He pretends the conversation never happened, every time we get the chance to be alone he makes up an excuse to talk about something else. 

Except at night.

At night he relaxes a little, letting me rant about my day and who pissed me off. Eventually, I bring him into the conversation. He, obviously, never takes it well. He tells me I'm overreacting and that he's being as open as he can and I shouldn't push him. I tell him I just want to talk and he says he's done talking.

Both nights, we go to bed angry. Both nights, we end up in each others' arms. 

Break isn't even a week in and I feel like it's been ages. Hogwarts is massive but there isn't much to do when everyone's gone. I usually go to the library to find a good book until the few people staying find me and ask to do something. Tom never is involved with those activities. His self-righteous ass cleans classrooms and stays in his room. I try to encourage him to try something new or different but he just scoffs and turns back to whatever he was originally doing. 

I sit on the bed, my legs crossed underneath the soft blanket. Tom wasn't in his room when I got back which gave me a little hope that he went out to socialize. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear just as the door creaks open. He pokes his head in first, a small smile creeping up on my lips. His dark locks fall into his eyes, though they wouldn't be visible in the dim light anyway. He walks inside, brushing the curls away from his face. 

"Have fun?" I smirk, taking in his wrinkled sweater and pants.

He shakes his head, flipping his black journal from hand to hand. I've gotten used to its presence. More like ignoring its presence. "Not in the slightest. How was your day?"

"Fine. The Rancey's were dicks as usual. Clay Montegray was cool though," I respond, closing my book and placing it in my lap. 

I feel the questions bubbling up before he even opens his mouth. Tom raises his eyebrows as he walks towards me, "Montegray? The ravenclaw? The mudblood?"

I sigh, batting my eyelashes playfully at his distasteful comment, "yes, both us 'mudbloods' are quite similar. He's gentle, nice, fun-"

His gaze darkens, "are you saying I'm not fun?"

"Are you not planning on denying how mean and cruel you are?" I sarcastically respond, enjoying how my little description of Montegray put him on edge. Truthfully, the boy's pathetic. He's nice, sure, but he didn't enjoy physical activity as much as he looks and his hobbies bore me to death. Though, he is adorable and makes good jokes so he keeps good company.

"If you keep thinking of him I will have no choice but to respond with cruelty," Tom grits. I see his fingers dig into his palms, showing how jealous he really is.

"I'm not jealous," he seethes, "it just frustrates me that you think you have the right to be drooling over some nobody. Did admitting my feelings do anything to you?"

I scoff, frustration beginning to become my core emotion, "if you haven't realized, I've been trying to talk to you about I I feel- you feel- about telling that to me. Don't pretend you haven't acknowledged that."

"Well I don't want to talk about it," he growls.

"then don't fucking bring it up,' I yell, pushing him away from me. I need to create space, I need to pretend he can't know what I think.

He immediately rebounds, getting on top of me and pinning me down by my wrists. I squirm underneath him, which only reflects badly onto me based on the way he's smirking. He tilts his head in adoration as I try to pull my wrists away from him.

"The fuck are you doing Tom?" I say, pushing myself up into him. His straddling position isn't helping my case.

"Angry, are you? Honestly, you're pathetic. No wonder you're hanging out with Montegray," he says as he leans towards me, his eyes flickering from my eyes to my lips.

"This has nothing to do with Montegray anymore," I say, turning my face to the side to avoid his gaze. He moves both my wrists to one hand and uses his free one to turn my head back. The fury in his eyes ignites a new sensation in the pit of my stomach. One that travels lower. 

"Of course you're beginning to enjoy this, princess. You're such a little slut," his tone is lower now, ore sensual.

"So are you Tom," I respond leaning my head forward so our lips almost touch, "you're just as messed up as I am."

He moves his hand from my chin to my neck, tightening his grip. 

"you poor thing..." He trails off, connecting our lips. 

I have no doubt his rings are going to be imprinted into my skin my the end of this. Whatever this is. He slowly creates distance from me, opening his eyes and adjusting my face so I have to look directly into his.

"What do you think this is, Florence?" he asks, his tone holding a cold yet calming charm.

"I don't know," I admit. I wiggle my right hand out of his grasp and reach out to his face, I stroke his jaw, trying to memorize the feeling of his skin.

"What do you wish for it to be?" He says, his breath fanning my fingers as they pass over his mouth.

"Something with a happy ending," I respond as he leans his forehead against mine. We remain there for a moment, his stiff breathing showing his hesitation. "What is it?"

He flips to the side lying on the bed next to me. He interlocks our fingers, letting his cold hands envelop mine. He kisses the back of the hand he's holding and rests it on the mattress.

"I hope you understand I can't give that to you."

His voice is shaky, almost regretful. It scares me. I've never seen him like this, I've never seen him afraid of something so simple. So peaceful. It makes him appear more human.

"That's okay, I I'll give it to you."