Non Omnis Moriar

25: Turncoat

This is it, guys. The final chapter. I can't believe we're here. What started as a brief relapse of obsession with Tom Riddle Jr. has now ended with a work I loved writing tremendously. We've lost some, but we gained some along the way. Also hindsight is 20/20 just saying.

So, I graduated with a Masters and I have started working immediately with my own university. It has its ups and downs, because some people always tend to see you as a student you know, but we're making it work. It was getting very hectic. So, here I am, actively trying to get back into the flow of writing. It's been harder than it looks, frankly - I just wanna sleep all the time.

ANYWAYS!

Without further ado!

***

Despite what Tom believed, it turned out that I wasn't actually suicidal. I peeked into the Slytherin commons and then very respectfully withdrew when I saw that the place was crawling with Death Eaters.

Avery sat staring hard into the fireplace, Malfoy across him flipping through a book idly. Rosier lay prone on the sofa, shaking his head as if dispelling wrackspurts. I pursed my lips then shook my own head.

It made no sense walking in and waiting for them to try and stupidly retaliate. While Tom had expressly forbidden them from acting out - they didn't appear to be in a listening mood.

And I wasn't reckless enough to be a sitting duck.

Best to avoid the commons until their Boss came back then...which was ridiculous to even think about...

As if he would go out of his way to protect me if I needed it.

Which I didn't...

I could take them...

I walked away from the Slytherin dormitory, my mind racing to think of places that would be good hideouts for the time being.

I could go to Dumbledore, but I knew that would raise questions. I could camp out in the Room of Requirement...

...or I could go take a much needed bath.

The Prefect's bathroom was mercifully empty; dark and lit with only a few candles around the bathtub.

I shucked off my soiled robes, sliding into foamy hot water with a sigh of relief. My vision dimmed, adjusting to the candlelight.

The mermaid stained-glass window came alive in my presence, turning her pretty fishy face towards me, bleary from waking from sleep. I closed my eyes, sinking further into the water.

Thoughts drifting, I wondered about Myrtle and Hagrid, of what they could be doing tonight. They wouldn't become Tom's victims...not tonight at the very least...

In a sleepy haze, I started humming, pondering what the next step of Tom's game would be when I was struck by how comfortable I was now - thinking of Lord Voldemort as Tom. He wasn't even Riddle anymore - it was just Tom.

When did that happen? When had I humanized my murderer?

My hand rose from the water, touching my lips where I could almost still feel the desperate press of his lips on mine.

A low thunk pulled me out of my dozing thoughts, my eyes wide and looking around the bathroom. As far as I remembered, the snake had been in the pipes if Tom was right. Could it...