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chapter fifty-one. (to be so lonely ) cw: substance abuse
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THE MAN IN THE BLACK SUIT HELD an expression of stoicism, whilst the once-man with snake-like features stood across from him. With crimson red eyes, and mere slits for nostrils, Elijah Halloway tried his very best to not cower beneath Lord Voldemort's glare.
Elijah wasn't a fan of the title Voldemort had given himself, bestowing it upon his followers and those frightened of him. It was a cover-up — something to hide beneath, something that offered him fame and glory. Yet, deep down, Voldemort was still Tom Riddle. He was still the orphan boy, the half-blood, and a Slytherin student. He was just like the rest of them, but more tyrannical, and exceedingly power-hungry.
It had been unexpected, to say the least. He had appeared in his office, robes of raven trailing behind him, yet didn't utter a word, merely waited for Elijah's inclination to begin. It was perplexing, and Elijah wasn't sure if he had the patience for the Dark Lord's cryptic riddles and messages.
There was an icy chill in the room, one that seemed to hang above the two of them like a dark cloud. Elijah felt the familiar prickle of goosebumps erupt on his flesh beneath his suit, but a sliver of him suspected that wasn't because of the cold. No, that was due to the uncanny sensation that Voldemort was watching him, despite his fervent attempts to keep as far back from the murderous Dark Lord as he possibly could, without setting off alarm bells.
The Halloway swallowed thickly, and tried to ignore the tremble of his hands, and reluctantly locked eyes with Voldemort's. "Is there something I can help you with?" he inwardly grimaced at the shakiness of his voice, a true depiction of how he felt — frightened.
Voldemort hummed, his voice even resembled one of snakes, hissing throughout the plane of the office. "Oh, certainly," he replied, slowly beginning to pace along the marbled floor. "Perhaps you can help me with something. Or, should I say, someone."
