𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 | Tom Riddle

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2

Chapter 2: 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓼

Song choices:

The Climb - Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana

All of Me - John Legend

A house-elf showed Angeline Fleur De Nuit to her bedchambers that night. But Ange had little to no intent of sleeping. Not whilst she was under the roof of Tom Riddle. She new he was hiding something dark and mysterious under his handsome face and chiseled body. But what. What was it?

And Ange had secrets of her own. Ones that could tear this manor to shreds and even bring the entire wizarding world to pieces. But she wasn't going to let her mysteries seep out so easily. No matter how hard Tom Riddle thought he was trying.

Because Angeline Fleur De Nuit wasn't like other girls. She was different. She saw it in the way all the boys looked at her earlier this evening. She may play the fool, but she was far from being one.

Ange snapped her fingers in a 'Z' formation in front of the mirror before she got changed. She slipped into a long, black sild dress that hugged her figure PERFECTLY. She didn't think any garment had looked so good on a human being - ever. This would get the guys looking, that was for sure. She tied her hair up into a messy bun and twirled, admiring herself. She looked great. She threw on a long black cloak and put on her favourite dangling earring and shining jewelled necklace. Finally, some high-heels. The perfect outfit to sneak about the castle without making a sound.

The air was thick with the weight of secrets as Angeline "Ange" Fleur de Nuit crept through the dimly lit corridors of Malfoy Manor. The grand, foreboding halls seemed to stretch endlessly, twisting and turning like the very thoughts in her mind. Each step she took echoed faintly, a reminder that she was venturing into the heart of darkness, into a place where even shadows feared to tread. But Ange did not fear them.

No, she was determined. The night was her ally - the shadows obeyed HER - and tonight, she would finally discover the truth about Tom Riddle. What did he dream of? What whispered thoughts haunted his sleep? And, most importantly, would he ever truly see her the way she saw him—a dark, brooding god, capable of both unimaginable cruelty and, perhaps, the twisted love she craved?

Her journey to his room was not without obstacles. As she rounded a corner, she froze, hearing the faint strumming of a guitar. It was eerie. But the sound was soft, almost haunting, and as she peeked around the edge of a tapestry, her breath caught in her throat.

There, illuminated by the pale light of the moon, stood Leonard Rosier. But this was not the Leonard she had dined with earlier. His eyes glowed with an eerie red hue, his strangely sharp teeth were gleaming as he played his guitar with a melancholy air.

She stopped, her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't help but watch him for a moment. Woah. He stood by the window, a striking figure with an air of melancholic grace. His attire was both elegant and slightly dishevelled—an old-fashioned, high-collared shirt in deep, midnight blue, under a slightly rumpled black jacket that had seen better days. The jacket was adorned with intricate, silver embroidery that seemed to catch the light in a way that made him appear almost otherworldly.

Godly, even.

His skin was pale, almost luminescent in the dim light, giving him an ethereal, ghostly quality. His dark, tousled hair fell around his face in a deliberately unkempt manner, framing his sharp, brooding globes for eyes. These eyes, a deep, unyielding black with flecks of green, gold and blue, held a sadness that seemed to pierce through the darkness, reflecting a thousand untold sorrows.