Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏

August sank into the plush, velvet green sofa that enveloped her body in comfort within the Slytherin common room. The Christmas vacation had drawn to a close, and the anticipation of the first students' arrival filled the air. From her vantage point, she admired the ethereal glow emanating from the lake, its reflections casting mesmerizing patterns that danced upon the room's walls. Lost in its enchantment, she found herself momentarily detached from the book resting on her hands.

As the ornate door swung open, a rush of eager students spilled into the common room, their excited voices filling the space. Amidst the crowd, her eyes locked onto a familiar pair that ignited a spark of joy within her. Nathaniel stood at the threshold, his eyes instantly drawn to her. A smile adorned her face as she exclaimed, "Nathaniel!" Setting her book aside, she eagerly rose from the sofa to greet him.

A gentle chuckle escaped Nathaniel's lips as he closed the distance between them. "It is still Nathan for you, August. I have not been away for that long," he playfully chided, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

Following Nathan's arrival, the remaining members of their close-knit group entered the common room one by one. Nott and Lestrange, too, wore expressions of genuine pleasure upon seeing August, though it was difficult to discern whether their delight stemmed from reuniting with her or from the joy of being back within the familiar confines of Hogwarts. As Abraxas breezed past her, he offered a casual wave, a fleeting gesture that, to August, spoke volumes. It was a simple acknowledgement, but in a realm where detachment was common, she found solace in even the smallest of gestures.

The weariness etched upon the boys' faces betrayed the toll their time away from school had taken on them. Dark circles beneath their eyes hinted at sleepless nights, their youthful energy tempered by the burdens they carried. Yet, amidst the fatigue, one figure stood apart. Tom Riddle entered the common room, his presence commanding attention. His impeccable appearance and composed demeanor contrasted sharply with the weariness displayed by his peers. As their eyes collided, a flicker of annoyance passed through his gaze, swiftly replaced by an enigmatic glint of satisfaction. August couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping within her, a suspicion that Riddle had achieved something clandestine, a secret victory hidden from her knowledge. It was a satisfaction akin to a child who had cunningly stolen another's candy, reveling in the spoils.

Her disquiet was momentarily forgotten as a familiar scent, one she had remembered during the last few days, teased her senses. The unmistakable aroma of cigarettes wafted through the air, drawing her attention to Riddle. She seized the opportunity, catching him in the act while his gaze remained fixed upon her. "Cigarettes?" she questioned, a mix of curiosity and reproach hinting in her words.

A daring smirk played upon Riddle's lips as he met her gaze. "Do you not think I should know better than to indulge in something designed solely to inflict harm upon one's health?" His words were adorned with a defiant confidence, a perfectly crafted response that mirrored the calculated facade he wore.

Her eyebrows arched, and a slight smirk played upon her lips. "I thought you weren't a liar. And besides, are you not too young for that?" August challenged, before Tom could respond, their exchange interrupted by Pansy's raucous entrance. Tom exhibited a final, satisifed smile before sauntering off to join his companions.

"I can't believe you had to spend Christmas alone in here!" Parkinson exclaimed, her grip tightening around August in a comforting embrace. "I had no idea, or I would have invited you over," she added, genuine concern etched across her face.

"Do not worry, Pans, it's been quite enjoyable," August reassured her, attempting to explain her contentment. But once again, her words were interrupted. Before she could utter a word, Parkinson's face lit up with an idea. The spark of inspiration seemed to illuminate the room, and August could almost visualize the figurative light bulb hovering above her friend's head.