Burning Obsessions : Tom Riddle

19: Close and Closer

[victoria's pov]

I had always thought the perfect place to hide and recollect your thoughts was in Professor Merrythought's classroom. But even that became a bore from the news intake.

So I sat alone.

In Moaning Myrtle's freezing restroom.

It was especially cold in the restrooms during winter. I had felt a draw to this place now that I knew of its secret- er, Riddle's secret.

I felt like the unluckiest person in the world. I felt cursed (perhaps I was) and I grew sleep deprived. The term winter holiday even opposed how I felt. My mind was rather a winter storm and my heart grew heavy the more I thought about how my own grandmother abandoned me.

But my mother's a murderer. I thought with a tear of disbelief. I always dreamt my mother would be perfect and there'd always be an exclamation, and reasoning, for her to give me up. But she killed herself... out of cowardice, afraid to face the consequences of her actions.

And as for my father. He left me before I was even brought into this world. Nothing hurt me more than knowing my father didn't want anything to do with me before I even saw the light of day.

I toyed with my wand in quietness, debating whether I had rejected my own grandmother irrationally or if I had made the right choice. Debating whether forgiving Annabeth would be enough to make up for all the years I've spent alone after being abandoned,

A voice disturbed the silence.

"It's almost past curfew."

I knew who it was before he entered the restroom.

"It should be illegal for you to enter girls' restrooms," I said. "You really know how to kill a mood."

"And you really don't know how to stay out of trouble."

He stared down at me and I met his eyes.

His gaze does not look the same as the first time I met him.

His eyes gleamed.

Not gleamed, preferably such as they reflected what stood before him.

Like he refused to let me see through the windows of his soul. Locked, and vitality hidden away as if such a thing would make him a slag.

That's to say, such as a mirror.

He feared nothing but confronting the naked truth.

And that didn't make him a slag but a coward.

I broke out of my trance. "The last thing I need from you is a lecture, Tom."

"You need not to worry about a lecture from me," he said and reluctantly sat himself beside me.

He was acting strange. Maybe he was ill again?

"Riddle, I can't-"

"Can't what?" He interrupted me. He's never interrupted me before. "Can't stand my presence? Can't stand me?"

He had a good point. I had usually given him a cold shoulder when he was around. But that was only because he did the same and was sappy, as if I was a threat.

I realised I had left him hanging. "I don't want to argue right now."

"I'm not here to argue with you either," he said. Without permission, he sat himself behind me on the cold floor. It was painfully quiet. But not awkward. Just silent and still. He didn't dare say anything. Or ask.

"Tom?"

"Victoria."

"Do you believe in a second chance?"