Loving Lily: A Snily Story

Chapter 82 - Tom's Plea

Thank you for reading! I don't own any of Harry Potter! Please let me know if you enjoy! Updates every Saturday!
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One surprising benefit of Harriet's lingering melancholy had been the wonderfully deep sleep she had received each night.

Instead of lying awake and pondering the state of things, Harriet tumbled through rich, dreamless sleeps that had left her wanting more every morning.

She had trained herself to ignore the headaches and the pull that Tom Riddle tried to exert on her in an attempt to lure her back with the diary.

Tom Riddle and Voldemort were the same person, cold-blooded killers, nothing more.

For once, she refused to indulge her daring tendencies.

Harriet stayed safely in her bed each night and snoozed away the hours, silently dreading the next hum-drum pace of another dull day.

Professor Dolores Umbridge had made everyone's existence more difficult.

A seemingly delightful woman who actually only delighted in sadistic cruelty, her presence itself was an onerous burden to all around her.

Harriet could bear life at the castle no longer.

The letter lay written on her desk next to her bed, ready for hand delivery in the morning.

While Harriet slept, the moonlight illuminated the words on the parchment.

Mum and Dad,

Do you think I may come home for a while? Just for a bit, until I feel better. I'm unwell and it's hard for me to focus on my studies here now.

Harriet

In the silence of the night, not a single girl stirred at the top of Harriet's Gryffindor Tower dormitory.

No one woke at the slight sound of heavy slithering while the Basilisk glided over the floorboards to pull its body, slick with sewer grease, towards Harriet's bed.

It paused as it reached its target and hovered over the open top of her four-cornered bed frame.

The intimidating monster closed its yellow eyes to prevent Harriet's unintended death, in case she accidentally woke.

Silently, the Basilisk leaned down and opened its massive mouth.

Its foul breath carried with it the stench of decay as its tongue snaked forth and wrapped around Harriet.

As gently as it she were a fine, glass vase, the Basilisk pulled the sleeping girl into its mouth and slowly made its way out of the room.

It had little trouble wriggling itself down the gaping hole that had been carved into the bathroom's sink just across the hall.

Once the monster had moved out of the other students' earshot, with Harriet still safely in its mouth, it increased its pace.

Haste was important when Slytherin's heir stood waiting.

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Harriet blinked her eyes open to the purr of a smooth, familiar voice.

She furrowed her brow as she noticed that she lay on a bed much softer than the one in her dormitory.

A face slowly came into focus, blurry and distorted......

"...........Tom?" She asked drowsily.

With a gasp, she sat up.

Expecting to find herself suddenly awake from a dream, her eyes widened as she realized Tom  Riddle was, in fact, seated on her bed.