You Promised Me→♡•°Tom Riddle°•♡

Chapter 32

"It's Christmas eve," Faith whispered, grinning, her voice feathery and soft as she breathed next to Tom.

Tom looked down from his book, staring at Faith, who lay next to him in Faith's bed. To shelter from the blistering cold, the two had moved inside, finding warmth in each other as they curled up beneath the silky covers.

"Are you going to keep interrupting me or shall I continue?" Tom said flatly, looking down at Faith with feint exasperation. The truth was, Tom wanted nothing more than to feel Faith's heartbeat on his, to feel Faith's slow breaths on his cheek, to smell the rose of her hair.

"No, I'm listening," Faith smiled up at him, tangling her fingers in a curl of Tom's hair.

If it was anyone else, Tom would have snapped the hand away in anger. But it was Faith.

Her vision seemed mesmerised by the black curl in her dainty hands, her eyes sparkling with awe, stars in the inky sky. Tom captured the image; her cheeks, flushed with warmth, the pale freckles dotting over her porcelain cheeks, her hair honey in the warm light.

"Go on, continue," Faith nudged him, and Tom was snapped out of his dreamy daze.

He picked up his book again, Frankenstein (their shared favourite), finding the passage and reading, his voice low and filled with the softness of the night :

"Volume two, chapter nine," He spoke, reading the words as if they were sacred, Faith curling besides him, closing her eyes and bathing in the silky voice, the way one might soak up the sun on summer afternoons. As he read out loud, the story infused into the room, into the very furniture.

"I will revenge my injuries, if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear, and chiefly towards you my arch enemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred."

"Tom?" Faith interrupted, causing Tom to look down from the yellowed pages with a sigh, meeting her curious expression.

"Yes?" He breathed.

"Do you think the monster was fair in saying that?" She quizzed, her expression innocently interested. "Do you think, just because Victor did not provide him with the love he so ardently desired, the monster was just in his revenge?"

Tom paused for a moment, "Yes, I believe so to an extent. Though, destroying Victor's life to no gain of himself seemed rather pointless," He shrugged.

"He was angry, the monster," Faith continued, "That's why he ruined Victors life. Do you think anger is a fair reason to destroy another's life, even if the anger is justified?"

Tom considered slightly, before replying, "I think the point made at the end of the text is that, ultimately, the monster's rampage lead him to nothing. He lost himself to anger. It clouded his judgement and he gained nothing but remorse."

Tom looked down at Faith quizzically, "Why do you ask?"

Faith shrugged, "Out of curiosity I suppose." She met his eyes, smiling warmly, "And, you're the only person I can really discuss my favourite book with and enjoy it."

Tom scoffed a laugh, "Well, I suppose the same goes for you. I can't exactly discuss the morality of a fictional, muggle written, monster with Abraxias Malfoy,"

Faith gave out a laugh, and nestled her head onto Tom's shoulder.

"Tom, do you think the monster was good?" She asked.

"No." He replied, frowning, "I believe neither Victor nor the monster were good."

"What were they then?"

"Lost, I suppose." Tom, "Lost in an ugly part of themselves that they could not escape from."

Faith hummed in consideration, before speaking up again, "You said once that you relate to the monster. Are you lost in an ugly part of yourself?"