"Oh sweetie, monsters are real and they look like people"
Two lost souls, one too wrecked to be saved, one that doesn't want to be saved. What happens when they meet?
As Tom Riddle continues to go down the path of self-destruction, Dumbledore decide...
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Black shoes clinked against the stone floor as the moonlight slipped through the windows, the potraits looked at the girl who was out past curfew and murmured to themselves. Her cloak's hood covered her face as she made her way to the seventh floor.
She stopped in front of a wall and paced infront of it for a few minutes before a wooden door appeared replacing the cold wall. The witch pushed the door open and entered the room.
It was a medium sized room with a small fire place and a black chaise lounge infront of the fire place. The room was fully black and was dimly lit with candles. With a snap of her finger the witch lit up the fire place. Azazel threw herself on the chaise lounge and sighed before letting out a scream of frustration.
Eternity was torture and the witch has been enduring it for her whole life. Her mind was a mess, too much information, too many memories, too many breakdowns. But her heart was more broken, too many emotions plaguing her being. She had to watch all her loved ones perish, whenever she made a friend they ended up dying, except the witch everything seemed to die. And all she ever wished was for death to wrap it's glorious fingers around her trachea until she could no longer take another sinful breath. But that would never happen because of some selfish beings who were too scared to live themselves and save their wretched creations, they had bestowed the responsibility on her shoulders and she was forced to protect every single soul she hated because she had nothing else to do with her life. She couldn't love, she couldn't care, she couldn't live, she was only surviving.
Among all this only one question plagued her being.
Would anyone share this torture with her? Would someone be brave enough to become immortal and live for an eternity until they were losing their mind like the witch?
Would anyone be with her, be there for her until death do them apart?
The door to the magical room opened startling the witch and she jumped up to see who had interrupted her alone time. "Tom?" The witch breathed out his name as he closed the door behind him. The boy looked as shocked as she was when he heard his name being called, he swiftly turned to face the witch and his face twitched with an indescribable expression. "Azazel?" Her name rolled of his tongue like velvet and the witch was dazed as she gazed at him, he wore a black sweater that hung below his waist, it was too large on him and the thought of it being second hand made the witch pity the boy. It didn't go unnoticed by the boy and he winced "Don't give me that look Bellum" he grunted as he made his way towards the witch.
No one liked being pitied and for a prideful person such as Tom Riddle it was degrading, he made himself into the perfection he was today and it irked him to no end when someone looked at him and reduced everything he had made himself to be just by thinking his life was pitiful, he was pitiful. Tom never cared for wealth and riches, but he absolutely loathed it when someone dared to look down on him just because of his social status. And so he surrounded himself with powerful and rich people and made them all bow down to him and earned their respect.
