The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 13. Diagon Alley

August 31, 1938.

Wednesday

I spent the rest of the evening anxiously pacing my room. There were too many thoughts running through my head, and I tried to organize them. Dumbledore was obviously an important professor. I was well aware that it was worth listening to him and complying with his demands in order to hold on to a promising new position.

The thought that the school was probably much better than here made me perk up. Then a smile flashed across my face, I got excited. The fact that we were wizards meant an irrevocable fate: I would be powerful, and she would be there for me. I would become as strong as Dumbledore! No. Even stronger than him!

I spent the evening thinking like that, impatiently awaiting that sweet tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day Irene and I would go to the Leaky Cauldron, and from there we would go to the Diagon Alley, where we would buy whatever we needed. The day after tomorrow we will leave this place, and it will all be over. Eleven cursed years will be over.

After exhausting myself by wondering what would happen next, I collapsed exhausted on the bed, but my mind kept conjuring up images of anticipation of what was to come. In the end, I fell into a deep sleep, surrendering to fatigue.

I did not want to open my eyes at all, but feeling the sun's rays tickling my sunken cheeks, I involuntarily smiled. Still asleep, I muttered hoarsely under my breath, "It's a beautiful day."

"Yes," the familiar voice snapped me out of the state between dream and reality.

Well, of course! The sun was physically incapable of shining a single beam into my room because of the damn wall. But this person is capable of walking as through walls at any time of the day and treading on my territory with her foxy paws.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and saw the familiar face hovering above me. Irene was sitting on the edge of the bed, bent over. How had she not already fallen to the floor? The hair wasn't braided, and the tar curls tickled my cheekbones, sending shivers down my body.

Or was it the scent of black rose and jasmine? Something definitely tart.

"I thought it was the sun," I wheezed indifferently in my still-dormant voice, "and it's just you."

A small, pale finger poked me through the blanket and into my side – it hurt. I groaned, mentally spitting out, 'I'm going to pull your hair, you fool!'

"I haven't slept in a long time," Irene chirped. If you put her in a cage, she could pass for a bird. More like a magpie, though. "I couldn't wait for you to wake up, so I came."

"To stab me with your finger?" I indifferently voiced what I believed, and grabbed her thin forefinger. "I'll disappoint you, Irene, but you didn't succeed." I moved back against the wall, giving way.

"What do you think will happen next?" Irene immediately lay down next to me and asked the question, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"I don't know." I ran a hand through her thick locks of hair. "Though... I know. Our plans would begin to materialize."

A smile touched her face, and it turned into a laugh.

"Quiet," I hissed, covering her mouth with my palm. Irene twitched like she was having a fit.

"I'm ticklish, Tom," she mumbled faintly, slobbering on my palm.

The early morning was tangled in the shadow of her lashes. Her eyes burned with emeralds. Some hitherto unknown feeling stirred within me that made me feel uncomfortable. It must have been the drool. I hurriedly removed my hands from the frail figure stretched beside me and wiped my palm on the blanket.