Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

As the first light of dawn filtered into the common room, August sat on a sofa, her body fatigued and her mind consumed by worry.

Dumbledore had finally arrived from London, bringing a glimmer of hope, yet the news of Harry being confined to the infirmary and her inability to visit him only added to her restlessness. Determined to see him as soon as possible, she patiently awaited the lifting of curfew, longing for the moment when she could stand outside the infirmary and catch a glimpse of him.

Lost in her thoughts, August stared into the crackling fireplace, the warm glow flickering across her face, leaving her expression empty and distant. It was in this somber state that she heard soft, measured footsteps approaching, a sound that disrupted the silence of the room. However, she remained seated, choosing not to turn and acknowledge the intruder.

"Back from your little adventure?" Riddle's voice cut through the air, his hands casually clasped behind his back as he drew nearer.

"How do you know?" August's voice escaped her lips in a tired whisper, her exhaustion apparent.

Tom reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of Muggle cigarettes, the crinkling sound of the packaging adding to the atmosphere. "News spreads fast in this castle," he responded casually, as if unfazed by the revelations he had heard. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he observed August's reaction. Before lighting up, he politely inquired, "Do you mind?"

Flamel shook her head, acknowledging her indifference to his habit, as she tucked the blanket more securely around her legs. Riddle's slender fingers deftly plucked a cigarette from the pack, holding it delicately between them. He raised his hand, conjuring a small spark from the fire in the fireplace, which danced briefly to ignite the tip of his cigarette.

"That kills," August weakly chuckled, a wry remark escaping her lips as she observed him taking a drag.

"So I've read," Riddle responded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He took a seat on a nearby small leather couch, the worn material conforming to his form.

"So you are, in fact, a liar?" August asked, her words dripping with the weight of their past conversation about smoking.

"I asked you, don't you think I should know better than to indulge in something designed solely to inflict harm upon my health. I never said I didn't," he answered, his tone laced with a hint of irritation, his recollection of their previous exchange vivid. Tom took a moment to consider his next question. "Did you see him?"

In his dark eyes, a small glimmer of curiosity shone. Riddle studied Flamel closely, his gaze unwavering, as he took in the paleness of her face, which accentuated the intensity of her black eyes. If the girl had been surprised by the question, she did not show it. She knew perfectly well to whom Riddle was referring. For a moment, she pondered her response. Too fatigued for evasive answers or counter-questions, she opted for honesty. "No, I didn't," August admitted. Tom nodded slowly in response. "Do you know anything about him?" Her curiosity was still prickling.

"I have heard a few things..." he replied gravely, his jaw clenching.

"Do you think he'll come back?" She turned her head to look at him, her question filled with uncertainty. No one could truly know the answer, but August hoped to find some reassurance in his response.

Riddle took one more puff before casually tossing his cigarette into the fire. "I don't know." The serenity of his words mirrored on his face, accentuated by the first rays of sunlight reflecting off the lake.

August nodded without looking at him, lost in her thoughts. "You know what, Riddle," their gazes met, leaving an air of tension hanging between them. "I think this was the nicest conversation we've ever had." She managed a faint chuckle.