𝑆𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔， 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 || 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑋 𝑂𝑐

twenty.

Few weeks had passed since Vivian last heard anything regarding Horcruxes. She was studying for her practice N.E.W.T.S. in the library. She never really studied in the past, but this year she thought that she should start getting her head together. Vivian adored the idea of studying. to write nicely when sitting by herself in a dimly lit room full to the brim of dark brown books, but she was unable to romanticise her time spent learning. She just couldn't stop getting distracted.

Dipping her quill into the ink pot, she wrote the date at the top of the parchment. November 26th, 1942.
Another thing Vivian adored was quills. So messy yet so beautiful. When she found out that she was going to be using quills in her time at Hogwarts, she was over the moon. Begged her mum to buy her some quills and ink so that she could practice her writing. It didn't go too well, to say the least. Ink spilt over so many pieces of parchment. She had a much more muggle-based life as a child, even though her mother was a witch. Vivian's father was a muggle, and they would've rather gone by his beliefs than theirs.

Vivian's Wizarding family was full of cruel pure-bloods. They disowned her mother as soon as they learnt that she married and had a child with a muggle. Vivian didn't know the names of her grandparents on her mother's side, and she didn't much care for the names either. They weren't real family to her. Her father's parents, on the other hand, were nothing less than amazing. She was their only grandchild so she was absolutely spoilt, and they thought she attended some boarding school for gifted children instead of a school for witches and wizards, so they were extra proud of her.

Anyway, the air was chilly curtesy of the nearing end of autumn. Outside the stained glass window, there was a light snowfall coming from the sky coating the outside pathway. The snow covered up the footprints of students who had just crossed it's path while walking with their friends. It was such a sight from one window in the library. Vivian became aware of her own distraction, but she was unable to stop it. November rarely saw snowfall, which added to the allure of the scene. She would have done anything at that moment to stand in the snow. Anything to stand in the cold.

Realising how distracted she had become, she turned her head away from the window. Looking down at her studying material, she sighed. Vivian was bored out of her mind. Her thoughts all left as a voice spoke. "Hello." Vivian looked up to see Tom Riddle and Lyle Lestrange. They both stood straight. Perfect posture. "Um... hello?" She replied, recalling last nights events. She began to wonder if Lestrange knew about Tom's need for knowledge on such dark magic.

Lestrange didn't speak. Not even a nod. He waited until Tom made a move, which he reciprocated. Tom had sat down across from Vivian, Lestrange sitting beside him. They both had some parchment, books, and quills in their hands, which they had placed on the table. "You don't mind, do you?" Tom asked. He had already invited himself anyway. Vivian wasn't sure what to feel in that moment. She couldn't stop recalling her memories of last night. She felt scared yet curious. Intimidated yet intrigued. "Not at all." She shook her head and began to read again. Well, her eyes scanned the page to attempt to read, but she just couldn't take in the words. She felt them both watching her. They weren't peeling their eyes away.

There was an awkward tension in the air. The boys had begun to do their own studying, which made Vivian look over at them. They seemed so put together. Too perfect to be real. It was quite annoying, actually. The silence was deafening. It seemed the only person not affected by the intimidating silence was Tom. He was carrying on with his studying. Lyle Lestrange was sitting holding the quill in midair, ink dripping from it onto his fresh parchment. His leg was bouncing rapidly as he was seemingly lost in a train of thoughts.

"What's the matter, Lestrange?" Tom meant this as a rhetorical question. His tone was sharp and snappy, making Vivian and Lestrange feel more uncomfortable. "Sorry?" Lestrange asked, finally snapping back into reality. He was confused, distraught if you must. Tom finally looked up from his parchment and put his quill in the ink pot, straightening his posture and clasping his hands together. "You're distracting me. Your excessive bouncing." Tom looked under the table at his leg, which had now begun to slow down. Vivian stayed silent. She felt as if she spoke, she would be judged beyond comprehension. Lestrange's cheeks began to flush pink from embarrassment.