𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 || 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾

𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲

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𝙏𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙊𝙐𝙇. Indeed, that's just how Tom Riddle himself liked his victims. What was the point in torturing someone who hasn't suffered? Truthfully, yes, your flesh would fill up more with the sound of their pain and them experiencing it for the first time — but then someone has already suffered the worst ways thinking nothing bad can compare to it, Riddle loved to just prove them all wrong.

Della La Grace has suffered in the worst way a human, veela could. Tho, there were still bad things happening to her, and yet, she'd always replace them with something better, brighter and more optimistic. But she couldn't replace the darkness and wittiness Tom Riddle had with her sunshine behavior, could she?

He loved a challenge, and she didn't.

He loved to risk, and she did not.

He loved to think he had a chance, and she already knew who she belonged to.

Because it was the moment their eyes connected together with their soul. How the pull they both felt hurted one another, how he desparatly tried to rip of his very own heart in order to not give it to her, and how she didn't even bother to do anything.

It was for she didn't knew the curse that stumbled the worst period of her life, and he already lived it. Because what could a powerless, weak and utterly optimistic veela do compared to the scariest man in the wizarding world that worked such plans in silence?

Nothing.

Of course Riddle preferred this game. Game in which he would be the dominant one, like he always was. He enjoyed this girl's company already, and not for any particular reason, but because she loved to beg. And so did he adored begging. How bittersweet her voice sounded when those french words escaped her rosy lips. How they tangled upon his heart without him noticing. And how he'd love to hear some french in much better occasion.

Therefore, again, he countinued to torture her pretty little minds. Putting only the slightest of pressure on them, to keep her pleading.

Della could feel the energy pressing her down, yet she ought to not give up and let her guard down, at least not for a while.

„Hm, and your name is?” questioned the man in neat suit of black and silk, covered in wealth. Clearly, he did not respect her personal space and took yet another step, entering her intimate zone only from a close distance. From the corner of his eyes, he didn't miss how Della's soft hands tightened around the bronze rod, and his eyes danced with evilness of his own thoughts.

Her lips parted only a little, maybe it was from the relief of the hope he might let her go, or maybe it was the pleasure she felt of being his prey. „Della La Grace, monsieur, im from Beauxbatons, i not know rules at Hogwarts.” the need to explain herself to him, the unknown man, revealed something thrilling inside his soul. Though, the thrill was just as ignored. Ignored due to the just unknown push her soul was aching for.
[sir]