Burning Obsessions : Tom Riddle

31: To Understand

[victoria's pov]

"I'm dying?" I exclaim, feeling the ground around me shake.

I look in his mirror, seeing my hideous reflection quiver with disbelief. In the heat of the moment, my hair begins to turn more grey. I think of nothing more but of what I'm going to lose.

Riddle quickly approaches me, grabbing me by the shoulder.

"Have I not told you to learn to tether or control your abilities?" he demanded. "Your emotions are tied to your magic. Enough with the panic and strong emotions."

I couldn't find myself to meet his eyes, as I was ashamed of my appearance. Confusion flooded my head.

"What could have triggered this?" I wondered aloud.

"Calm down before any questions are answered," Riddle soothed, caressing my arm. "You can't let this consume you."

In all confessions, it was unusual for Riddle to be this caring. The last time he was like this was after Serenity died–when I felt like a prisoner. But this time, it was different. I didn't feel like one.

But all I could think about was being next and dying. My body being one with the Earth and my story disappearing like a speck in this vast universe.

"I don't want to die," I confessed to Riddle.

His intense eyes met mine. "I know. Neither do I."

His face was stern yet understanding. It was like we shared the same rhythm of the world, empathising with what we feared most. It was not yet something I could understand in the heat of the moment though, as I only thought about what could have caused my magic to do this to me.

Once my breath slowed, he sat me on his bed, sitting beside me.

"What triggered this?" I asked Riddle, cowering in my palms.

Riddle only shushed me and stood up.

"Perhaps Laval has got some soothing tea for you," he said. "In all honesty, that's what her family's known for anyway. I'll be back and I'll lock the door behind me."

I didn't respond or move. I was devastated about my youth being drained.

"Stay quiet," Riddle commands. "And most importantly, calm."

He stands and makes way for the door. Just like he said, the door clicks with a lock. The room falls silent and only my breath creates an unsteady ripple in the silence. Then a few books fall off Riddle's nightstand, the pile of notes scattering. I look up, groaning as I reach to pick them up.

His diary is buried under the mess, I notice. Remembering what sins Riddle had committed made me sicker, but I quickly buried the things together before he got back. I'm collecting his parchments when something catches my eye.

Underlined with Slughorn's previous lesson is titled,

A Cursed Life

It is no matter if the being is destined to an early end or an inch from death. It is said that the innocent creature's blood can save you from the hands of death but at a horrible price. The consequence of the unarmed creature's lustrous blood will burden you with a half-life from the moment its blood touches your lips. Unicorn blood.

My eyes seemed to have flashed when they skimmed the parchment. A neediness grew and I slowly stood up, thinking of nothing but my own selfish desire. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping my youth.

Whispers, voices grew audible. More cunning than the last, tempting me to sneak out of the school grounds and taunting me with my sudden ageing.

"Old witch!"