The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 12. A Broken Childhood

Irene awoke to a noise in the hallway, and her gaze immediately slid to the small room. Making sure Tom wasn't there, she slipped to the door and listened to what was going on. Apparently, it was the noise of the guys who lived here. Her hand involuntarily reached for the knob, but the door was locked with charms, so no Muggle could enter if they wanted to. Of course, Tom didn't give the impression of a careless person, but it was worth making sure. Soon the voices died down, and Irene strode across the cool floor back to the bed. She sat down on the prickly blanket and looked at her body; there was hardly a trace of her wounds. Tom hadn't lied when he'd said she'd look the same as before.

The Legilimency sessions were obviously not going to end, so Irene took a deep breath before sinking into her own consciousness. Tom shouldn't know her genuine emotions and feelings, so she intended to hide some memories.

On June 2, 1938, little Irene woke up in an unfamiliar room. The plaid was unpleasantly prickling her arms and legs, making her whole body itchy. She swung her legs off the bed and wiggled them, staring intently at a black dot on the floor. The reverberations of yesterday flashed through her mind, and it was clear that her memory had not returned. Questions of who she was and where she came from remained unanswered.

The door of the room opened, and a young girl appeared on the threshold. If Irene remembered correctly, her name was Martha. The nanny told her to go to the common dining room on the first floor for breakfast in the next ten minutes, but first to go to the girls' bathroom on the same floor.

Entering the room that had several sinks, Irene modestly said hello to the other girls. They smiled at her, and a red-haired girl named Bella even gave up her seat. Irene quickly cleaned herself up and obediently went downstairs. There were unfamiliar children around, laughing and talking loudly. The atmosphere was not tense, but inside everything clenched, and her body involuntarily refused to take the last step. Irene froze at the entrance to the dining room and scrutinized the tables. It seemed as if all the children were as clear as day and could be read like an open book. Aside from the naive and completely ordinary thoughts of children, Irene considered fear. Fear towards the same boy, but otherwise they looked like the most ordinary children.

Sitting down at the table that was in the very corner by the window, Irene began her morning meal. Her appetite was brutal. She remembered how she had been running endlessly for a long time and had not slept well all night. Suddenly, the surrounding atmosphere became tense. Her gaze automatically scanned the room, and it was clear why: a tall, dark-haired boy was pacing around the dining room.

"Not here!" Irene thought to herself as Tom, aged eleven, brazenly and defiantly sat down opposite, which made it unpleasant. He would not leave, so Irene started a dialogue first, in order to somehow defuse the situation. After all, he doesn't bite, does he?

"Hello, Tom!" She squeaked, hoping the boy would respond in the same friendly manner. But she was wrong.

He gave her a look of contempt, and Irene, hiding desperately behind the mug from which she was drinking her tea, for her throat had gone dry as soon as he sat down beside her, felt it. And then the authoritarian voice rang out, "Actually, this is my place."

Irene wanted to collapse to a point and disappear, but she was suddenly brave. It wasn't because she wasn't afraid of anything, but because she had nothing to lose, so the best defense was an attack.

"You can sit with me," she said cautiously, testing the waters for a future relationship, but she still didn't dare look into his eyes. She stuck the aluminum spoon into the porridge and then added, trying to look as calm as possible, "Unless you ask stupid questions."