elysium | tom riddle

40 | act ii, scene xv

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𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞

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𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐓𝐎𝐍 Scamander to finish interrogating Riddle. She tried not to bounce her leg up and down and refused to meet Dumbledore's stare as the minutes passed.

Finally, the wall dissolved after an eternity, and both men stepped out. Ariadne could see every swirl of painted indifference in Tom's mask as he stared above her head. She pursed her lips as Newt started thanking them for their time, and when both he and Professor Dumbledore dismissed them, she almost shot up from her seat to open the door and run out of the office.

Her steps pounded against the marble staircase, and she pulled her bag closer, muttering that she had a class to attend. However, Ariadne heard footsteps behind her, and she quickened her pace. Then someone slammed up against her, knocking the wind out of her and pushing her with a hand to her chest straight back into the wall.

Tom.

His pink lips were curled up in a snarl, his eyes flashing.

"What the fuck do you want?" she snapped, raising her eyes to look at him.

"You know something," Riddle growled, so deep and low she felt the words more than she heard them. "What was the thing that killed Isobel?"

"I know nothing," she said, jerking her head away from him.

His hand was stamped between her breasts, fingers splaying over her white shirt. She felt her skin warm beneath his touch, and she grabbed at his arm, digging her nails hard enough to draw blood out of him.

His mouth quirked in a taunting smirk. "You haven't responded to my question."

"I have nothing to answer to you," she retorted archly, defiance heating her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he mocked. The hand on Ariadne's sternum flexed angrily, and he pushed her harder against the wall. "Because the tape I got of you confessing to killing eighteen men says otherwise."

Ariadne froze and blinked. Fuck. She had forgotten entirely about that tape. It had been a couple of months ago, and since her mission had changed, she had not minded being around Tom. She had to show him that she didn't care.

"You have a recording of me saying it, but what will it prove to Dumbledore if you show it to him?" she bit out, trying to hide the feeling of her insides quivering. Her breath accelerated. "He knows I have killed many people."

"But does he know that you enjoy it?" Tom whispered, and hot air shot over her lips. They were so close, too close. He leaned closer to snarl, almost up against her mouth. "You wouldn't want Professor Dumbledore to know that the person he assigned to protect Harry enjoys killing just like the Death Eaters."