EXILE | TOM RIDDLE

08. A History Of Loneliness

Loneliness is not a feeling I am accustomed to. Back home, I always had someone I could go to, be it my mother, my sister, or even Salazar. I had friends, too. Several of them, actually, who I could explain any grievance I had, and they would listen with open ears and silent nods.

Now, I have no one, and I despise it. While Abigail is perhaps my best friend here, I obviously cannot be honest with her about the circumstances of which I am here. Alphard, I could go to him, I suppose, but something tells me not to. Perhaps it is Tom's words echoing in my mind, saying to stay away from him. Though I suppose, I cannot trust Tom either, after he allowed his friends to humiliate me in such a way, and on Christmas of all days. On a day I was supposed to be celebrating the Lord, I was crying in my room like a child.

When classes start up again in January, I find myself dreading them more than usual, especially when I stumble into History of Magic a few minutes late, to find that the only seat available is one next to Tom.

He turns to look at me with that Tom Riddle smirk, before glancing at the empty seat. "Are you going to sit?"

I bite back the urge to tell him that I would rather stand, than sit next to someone who treated me as though I was nothing. Instead, I slide down next to him, though I keep my gaze locked firmly on Professor Binns, who is going on about something I cannot be bothered to listen to.

But then, as I observe the ghost, I remember what Abigail told me about Tom. About how he grew up in an orphanage. Perhaps I ought to cut him some slack, after all, having such an upbringing must have been hard for him.

With a deep breath, I push back the anger I had been harboring, and turn to look at him with a delicate smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Rebekah," he responds, tilting his head to the side as he observes me. "I'm surprised you're speaking to me."

"Why is that?"

"I figured you were upset with me, after what happened on Christmas," he explains with a sigh of what I interpret as remorseful.

So he did notice. I am unsure what to make of that — he didn't stand up for me, but he cared enough to speak about it now, to notice how it hurt me.

When I say nothing, he continues, "I'm very sorry, for how Abrarax spoke to you. I had no intention of hurting you. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing instead of defending your honor. I'm sorry."

"You laughed," I eventually breathe. "When he was rude to me, you laughed."

"I'm sorry."

The sincerity in his voice rings out, truly capturing me, as my heart seizes up in my chest. Forgiveness is oh so easy, when he gives me the look he is flashing right now, one of sheer, utter remorse, with his brown eyes wide and his lips ever so slightly curved down.

"It is alright," I nod at him. "I...I was being sensitive. It is on me too, not just you."

"If you insist," he stretches out an arm, the bone cracking as he does. "Say, Rebekah, would you like to be my partner for the project?"

"What project?"

"The one Binns just announced — well, you were late, so I suppose you didn't hear it. We have to pair up with someone, and research one of the founders of Hogwarts. I have my eye on Salazar Slytherin, for obvious reasons, but we can also do Rowena Ravenclaw, if you'd prefer. Being a Ravenclaw, and all."

For a moment, my heart seizes in my chest once again, though this time, it is nothing but fear that seers through me. Does he know? How could he possibly know?

"I mean, your house," he explains when I pale, and I let out a breath of relief. "You're in Ravenclaw, so I figured you'd want to do your founder."

"Of course," I sigh. "I would much prefer to do Slytherin, if that is alright with you. I...I find him more fascinating."