Darkness and Devotion - A Tom Riddle Story

The Shadows

When Evelyn awoke the next morning, she was stiff. The bruises had worsened. It was to be expected; they were only a few days old so they would get worse long before they got better. She couldn't believe that boy last night—Tom—had noticed them. Actually, she couldn't believe he noticed her at all. No one ever did. She didn't have any friends at Hogwarts; her quiet personality hardly drew anyone in and Evelyn had always been determined to keep people at arm's length if that was what it took to keep up the walls around her heart. But Tom, who had never seen her before last night, somehow knew the bruises were there, sensed that they were beneath the sleeve of her robes. He grabbed her with that icy grip and stared at them as if they infuriated him.

It made no sense. He made no sense. He was a Head Boy. Wasn't he supposed to report her to Professor Snape for being out of bed after curfew? But instead, he talked to her, walked her to her bedroom, and almost cared for her. She must have been seeing things; the middle of the night had been known to cause tired people to hallucinate. No one cared about Evelyn.

All morning, she waited for the moment when Professor Snape walked up to her table with his foreboding presence and sentenced her to detention for being in the library too late. She hadn't meant to stay that long there. It's just... after the sorting ceremony, when she returned to her empty dorm room, her body tired from her grandmother's recent beating (the one after her last day in the graveyard), she hadn't wanted to be alone. It was silly; Evelyn had always been alone. No one ever wanted to room with her and the professors hadn't forced them to. And it wasn't like she had much company at home either. Normally, she liked being alone. 

But last night, there was almost a shift in the air. Evelyn felt trapped in her prison of isolation. She felt empty. So she packed up one of her books and went to the library where she stayed for hours until she finished it. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. Ironic considering it was about a mansion haunted by many poltergeists when Evelyn was feeling completely alone in her own self-proclaimed mansion.

She tried to scurry back to her bedroom unnoticed. Normally, that was easy. Most people hardly remembered Evelyn existed so she was used to being silent. But it was almost as if Tom had sensed she was there. That's crazy. Even Dumbledore can't do that. And yet Tom lingered in the shadows as if he was waiting for the moment she waltzed into the room.

When he spoke, his face was deep and alluring, smooth like the skin on his face. He had this air of confidence that he wore well, one that faltered as soon as he looked into her eyes. Tom took a step back as if he had just seen a ghost before the mask went back up and he was back to taunting her like he was the predator and she the prey.

Why are you alone in the corridor? Haven't you ever heard that it's... dangerous? Nothing, in that moment, seemed more dangerous than Tom Riddle. And yet she couldn't bring herself to run. Maybe it was because his eyes were exactly like the ones she saw only days ago before she fell unconscious. Maybe it was the hint of a smile that rested on his lips, handsome enough to make her want to see more. Or maybe it was something deeper, something hidden beyond the surface that drew her in. It was crazy, she knew, and yet Evelyn had the distinct feeling that something pulled her soul to Tom, that they were meant to meet in the hallway that night. That's ridiculous.

When Tom later touched her, she felt as if his icy hands burned her, like the bitter sting of frostbite had befallen her entire arm. Normally, she would have hissed in pain and pulled her arm away before he could see more. But something about Tom stopped her, something that allowed him to caress the injuries on his arm, injuries that clearly made him angry. His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened until he seemed satisfied enough to let it go. 

He offered to walk her to her dormitory. She resisted—even though she didn't want to—but it was clear that when Tom wanted to do something, he did it or not. She got the feeling that him asking her was merely a courtesy and he would have gone whether she allowed it or not.