Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

Chapter 5-13

WAKE UP!

The screeching voice was accompanied by a sharp tug to the leg, the world blurring around you as your eyes shot open and your ears rang. It was a yell that scrambled your thoughts.

Who the hell just did that...?

You could barely get past the overwhelming dizziness when looking around at your immediate surroundings, which only served to further confuse you. Whoever had just screamed in your poor eardrum had to have been right beside your head, but no one was there except for your roommates who were fast asleep in their respective beds. There wouldn't have been enough time to run back to their beds and pretend to lay still.

A ghost? But the Bloody Baron was hardly a joker. Peeves seemed like the more logical suspect. Yet...

Looking into the room, you blinked into the darkness. The quiet seemed deafening now, bringing an uncomfortable feeling to sit on your chest, that of an invisible force latching onto your form and laying in waiting.

Any warmth you had in your blankets had frozen up and died along with your wicked dream; ragged flashes of those clawlike fingers reaching out of the Cavern's lake to rend you to pieces.

You needed... Water, which required a trip to the bathroom. As you went, and weren't that far away from the recently re-opened one, you peered down and gasped, the sound arrested in your throat. At one crossing there were small, wet patches of blood.

This wasn't right. Peeves may be messed up but he wouldn't take it that far. You'd blame it on a wounded animal, like a rodent or something. You couldn't be bothered to think about it too much, instead needing to clean off the sweat clinging to you like a second skin, but curiousity made you skip over the dungeon bathroom to go to the second floor's instead.

Where laughter during daytime ran through the halls, eerie silence was now the only thing left to watch you limp into the near-darkness. The stillness was deceptive and your wand simply refused to grant you the kindness of lighting up. Thankfully there was the candle light to work with.

Unlike inside, it was windy outside, a sudden whoosh of noise distracting you from your task of trailing tiny blood droplets like some demented breadcrumb trail.

You made it to the bathroom that reeked of stone, mold, and damp. Feeling around, your hand managed to catch on the edge of the sink before reaching higher to turn the tap, a steady stream of water beginning to fill it as you did.

All of your energy felt suddenly depleted. But maybe that was a good thing-the tiredness masked any stings of trauma you would have felt being fully awake.

With a light yawn, you shut off the tap, dunking the nearest scrap of cloth in the water, yelping when the temperature of the water finally registered in your brain. In a flash you ripped your hand from the sink water, holding your arm against you in a bruising grip.

Merlin, that made you gasp, because it wasn't bloody winter but still you felt the cold pinpricks trailing down your neck like crawling ice. Mist rising from the surface of the water and dissipating into the air was not a good sign. It was so cold that you barely had enough control of your movements to grip onto the edge of the sink with burnt fingers.

Vision hazy, you looked into his mirror, letting out a breathy laugh at your reflection. You looked exactly as tired as you felt.

Oh, right. You came in here to clean your face. Now where had you left that rag...?

Swiveling around, you spotted it hidden slightly behind the ajar door, a wet trail behind the path it had taken to get there. It almost looked like it had been dragged to behind the door.