The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 4: Titles of Local Monarchs

June 17, 1938

Friday

There was something that was keeping me awake. With an exasperated sigh, I turned over for the hundredth time. It seemed that the clock hanging in the corridor outside the door was right above my ear, ticking monotonously. I kicked the blanket with my foot, and in the next moment I heard it thud on the floor, feeling a pleasant chill go through my body. I closed my eyes. Now I would definitely fall asleep! I inhaled belligerently. Who was I kidding? I was wide awake. Doomed exhale.

I tossed and turned. A quiet knock on the door disturbed my thoughts. It's definitely none of the staff, since the evening rounds had been an hour and a half ago, and it wasn't the children, since every one of them had stayed away from me. Are you really so brave and not afraid at all of the darkness of the orphanage corridors?

I got off the bed. No matter how quietly I tried to tread the floor, the slapping of my bare feet seemed to be audible in Buckingham Palace. Why can't I fly? As I approached the door, I asked the trivial question of who it was.

"It's me, Tom," said a confident, familiar little girl's voice.

Predictable.

"What do you want, Irene?" There was a note of arrogance in my voice.

In fact, a single thought swirled in my head: I wondered if she stepped on that square of tile, and already the whole orphanage heard someone walking on the second floor after lights out.

"Nothing." one word, but it sounded so defiant, as if the Queen of England herself had just been offended.

"If nothing, then why did you come?" A faint shadow of a mocking smile touched my face.

She didn't step on it. I would have heard that rumble.

"Let me in."

"No. I'm trying to sleep here, actually!" I pretended to be annoyed so she wouldn't think of me as some pathetic yard dog wagging its tail with joy at the sight of a familiar person.

What would she do next?

"If you don't let me in, I'll scream, and then Mrs. Cole will come. I'll say it's your fault, and in the end we'll both be punished, of course, but the important thing is that you'll be punished, too."

My face finally and irrevocably blurred in a smile. Apparently washing her white socks had done Irene good, and now she knew that punishment and misbehavior were no fun. How... nice. A deep breath. I opened the door silently, greeting her with a mask of indifference. Fox's eyes immediately winked conspiratorially, and Irene stepped confidently into the room, making her way to the bed. She stopped at the blanket that lay lonely on the floor, and after a moment's hesitation, she picked it up and threw it onto the bed, covered with white sheets, and then sat down on the edge. There was something in her puny hands—a book or a square piece of wood.

"It's not your bed, so get off it."

Irene made some indecipherable sound, and the next moment she was at the table, lit by the echo of a summer night.

"I couldn't sleep," she finally spoke, "and I brought something, Tom."

Curiosity got the better of me. What will this girl do this time? I slowly approached the table, although I sincerely wanted to speed up my step. Irene triumphantly hoisted the wooden box up and, in exactly the same tone, proclaimed:

"Chess!"

I stared at her with an indifferent look that was actually a lie. My heart was picking up speed, and so were the emotions that stirred somewhere inside, like waves crashing against the shore.