Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝒕𝒘𝒐

Lestrange's jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. Anger coursed through him and his greenish eyes flashed with fury. The thought of anyone threatening someone from his circle ignited a protective instinct within him.

Nott, ever the pragmatist, kept pace with the group but was deep in thought. "We should consider what could have done this," he muttered, his brow furrowed as he recalled tales of creatures that roamed the Forbidden Forest.

Rosier trailed behind. He kept glancing over at Draco Malfoy, who walked beside him. "Are you sure we should be doing this? The three kids should have stayed back" he said, his voice trembling slightly. "What if whatever did this comes back?"

Crabbe and Goyle flanked Draco and they shared worried glances, unsure of what to do. "Yeah, Malfoy, we should stick together," Goyle suggested, trying to sound brave.

Draco clicked his tongue in annoyance. "We're the same age you..." But he was interrupted.

Just then, Lestrange shot Draco a hard look, his frustration boiling over. "This isn't the time for bickering! We need to focus on finding whoever harmed Pansy," he snapped, turning away from Draco to survey their surroundings, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the hallway.

Tom Riddle, moving slightly behind the group, remained quiet, his expression inscrutable. He loathed being dragged into this charade, and couldn't care less if the girl was hurt. She was insufferable anyway. The girl was irritant on a good day, and utterly irrelevant in the grand scheme. But his reputation was at stake, so he had to play his part. What possibly annoyed him the most was the determination of the boys. They should know better than to indulge in a silly little hunt.

They moved further into the grounds, the silhouette of the Forbidden Forest looming ahead like a wall of shadows.

Abraxas Malfoy's face was tight with worry, his steps quick and determined. "We shouldn't have left her come with us," he muttered, mostly to himself. "What if whatever attacked her comes back?"

Lestrange let out a sharp breath, his fingers twitching around his wand. "Then I hope it does," he said, voice low and full of heat. "Let it come. I'll rip it apart."

A few paces behind, Nott walked with his head slightly bowed, muttering under his breath. "Acromantula? No, too large... Lethifold? Wouldn't leave marks... maybe a Boggart with a corporeal twist?" His brow furrowed as he ran through every magical creature entry he could recall. "Nothing fits. Nothing fits exactly."

Tom walked at the rear, deliberately silent. He wasn't scanning the forest. Not really. His eyes flicked from tree to tree, yes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Circling, grinding, sharpening. He thought of Pansy. Of the blood on her face. Of the exact placement of the scratch that curved like a crescent moon across her cheek. "Barely escaped," she said... He remembered the way she said it. "Surely, you wouldn't want anything dangerous roaming the grounds." Not, "help me." Not even "protect me". Just enough guilt. Just enough challenge.

*

The Slytherin common room was still and glowing, cast in a soft green light from the lake beyond its tall, curved windows. August sat cross-legged on the velvet rug, her cloak discarded, hair a little tousled from nervous hands running through it too many times. She glanced at the old clock on the mantle: 07:04. Her heart skipped.

Any minute now.

There was a quiet knock, she stood quickly and crossed the room, smoothing the front of her jumper. When the door opened, Harry stood on the threshold, cheeks pink from the cold. He smiled awkward, sweet and little unsure of himself.

"You made it," August said softly, stepping aside to let him in. They sat together by the hearth in the Slytherin common room. A few tense seconds of silence passed and both students pretended not to glance at each other too much.