Loyal | Tom Riddle

37: Demands

A/N: Thank you all so much for over 6K comments! I read each and every single one of them, even though I might not always have the time to reply. Nothing makes me as happy as being able to know how you guys are reacting to the story and each other 😊 (And I hope you enjoy Tom doing that jaw thing that guys do)

Tom had never been intimidated by the darkness that swallowed the ceiling, the darkness that cast blue-green shadows over everything in front of him, glinting off the slime-covered scales of the great and terrible beast before him. The centuries-old stone, soaked through with stagnant water long before his grandfather or his father before him had been born, had only ever felt like destiny to him, like the pieces of the puzzle that was the universe were finally sliding into place. He was meant to stand there, before the larger-than-life face of Salazar Slytherin. No one else could have taken his place; he was, after all, the one true heir.

He studied the time-weathered beard of his legendary ancestor, which flowed out from his angular face like jets of water. Tom had never before tried to compare his own features to the angry, almost wrathful, ones set in stone, but he found the fact that there was hardly a familial resemblance dawning on him. He cast aside the thought and reminded himself that nine centuries had passed.

A low hissing greeted his ears, a sound not unlike the scraping of chains. And in a way, he figured that it wasn't too different for the basilisk, which had never even seen the light of day before -- not that the creature was missing out on much, anyways. There were terrible things that happened under the light of the sun, things that no self-respecting wizard should have ever had to put up with.

"Masssster," the beast slithered closer to him. "The girl--"

"I care nothing about the girl," said Tom sharply, turning slowly towards the giant snake with a blank expression, yet his eyes betrayed him, warning of a great fire that would not hesitate to char the lungs of the basilisk until nothing but ash smouldered in its place.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced furiously in front of Salazar Slytherin's likeness in silence, the only sound emanating throughout the chamber coming from the contact of his shoes with the damp stone. Clearing his throat, he broke the uneasy quiet.

"I know you don't believe me," Tom said calmly, straightening his posture. "But she is nothing to me. Her only importance is her unique capability to ruin everything, and that will very soon be eliminated and dealt with, trust me."

The basilisk recoiled slightly, as if considering itself for a moment. "Then let me kill her."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," the dark-haired boy replied with a heavy sigh, as if the answer troubled him deeply. "Not yet, at least. Unfortunately, I need her for my plan to work."

"Ssssurely her brother doessssn't matter."

The corners of Tom's mouth just barely twitched, but no smile spread across his face. Instead, the flames that had danced so dangerously in his eyes before were replaced with a darkness so deep that it was almost like staring into a deep abyss, an unending fall. "On the contrary."

✧ ✧ ✧

Arabella was discharged from the hospital wing within a day, much to her surprise (and, of course, Cahill's immense satisfaction-- it meant that training could resume right away).

She had spent that morning reviewing all the evidence she had against Tom in her mind's eye, going back in time to the ball, to the night John had left, to every single encounter she had had with him since the beginning of the year. Everything about it was so very odd, frightening her to her very core the more she thought about him. But it was like a quagmire: the deeper she found herself, the more impossible it seemed to ever escape.