⋆𝐃𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠⋆ - 𝐓.𝐌.𝐑

𝟎𝟑𝟓 - 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲

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𝗙𝗲𝗯𝗿𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝟭𝟰, 𝟭𝟵𝟰𝟱

Tom Riddle loathed being wrong.

He could not afford to make mistakes; he didn't have the money to waive them.

His friends did, but dipping his hand into their pockets too often would set a precedent. One he was determined to avoid.

The signs were all there.

Tom deciphered them with such egregious error that he wanted to massacre the entire Hogwarts populace for playing unknowing witness to his stupidity.

The culprit – his beloved Lilibet – didn't appear like a person awaiting judgement as they stalked through the castle corridors, him striding at the front with his hand a vice around her wrist, The rest of the knights shadowing them and deterring any loitering students from glancing their way a moment too long.

She was a web of tremors and manic eyes, her body nearly pulsating under his grip with what he could only assume was pride taken in the spectacle at the Great Hall, the one she undoubtedly orchestrated – her mouth twitched at intervals, fighting a malicious grin Tom knew her to possess.

He wondered why she hadn't just occluded, as her mannerisms were simply implicating her further.

But Tom also much preferred this lively spirit to the blank detachment of Occlumency.

The sound of rubber soles – some thicker than others – kissing the stone tiles, reverberated around them and inside their bones, playing them like wind instruments with nothing else to hide the sound. He wasn't one with distaste for loaded quiet, but this atmosphere didn't prelude him cursing one of the knights for stepping out of line – it concerned her, and that left Tom wishing to lash out against the universe.

They reached the last staircase on their journey, the one that – given the sentient staircases would bend to his will, which they did, always – should lead them to a particular, abandoned seventh floor corridor with a hidden door that secreted a room of wonders.

Funny, how similar that door was to the girl at his side.

But despite how amusing and arousing their little game of secrets might've proven to be at times, secreted wonders left him wondering – which left him homicidal.

Once they deboarded the wayward staircase that immediately flitted away with a shriek of grinding stones, his Lilibet jerked in his hold as though just becoming aware of their destination, of her surroundings and of his hand on her skin. Leveling him with a wary look that pinched a nerve between his ribs, the chaotic euphoria in her coffee eyes gave way to questions that had Tom wanting to pull her closer and croon placatingly.

But at the same time, Tom had made a miscalculation about her and the demons that were rumored to live under his flesh wanted to flee and bring about hell on earth.

So, he soldiered on, ignoring her silent pleas.

Within minutes they reached the blank and unyielding stretch of cobblestone wall that obscured the Room of Requirement. Tom had to relinquish his hold on his Lilibet to summon the correct environment; he sent her the knights' way, the shackle on her wrist being replaced by Druella and Walburga's hands each of her willowy shoulders – in case she tried to abscond.

Three times he traversed up and down the corridor, chanting his intent in his head and willfully ignoring the sight of Elizabeth entombed by his circle – looking at him with those deep-set pools of mistrust.