Loyal | Tom Riddle

40: Rekindled

With two months left until exams, the more dedicated students of Hogwarts set about beginning their annual ritual of frantic revising in the library, cluttering the solid oak desks with ancient tomes of spells and magical history.  It was the time of year that some practically took up residence among the dusty shelves, breathing in the stale air of the dark, candle-lit room as they pored over pages of potions and charms for hours on end.

One of these diligent learners was, of course, none other than Tom Riddle.  He was rarely seen in the Slytherin common room -- which was fine with Nikolai, who began avoiding the library at all costs.

In fact, ever since the meeting in which Tom humiliated Arabella before all the other Death Eaters -- nearly two weeks before -- Nikolai found himself withdrawn from most human contact.

He was furious with his sister.  Furious wasn't strong enough a word to describe his anger, he would think to himself.  But for how livid he was with Arabella, he was a hundred times more wrathful towards a certain raven-haired, smooth-talking, lie-spewing, self-righteous Prefect. 

Tom.

Nikolai couldn't possibly fathom anyone more revolting, anyone more twisted, anyone more worthy of being exiled to somewhere far worse than Azkaban for eternity.  The mere thought of him was enough to make his blood boil, his skin crawl.  He decided that to hate Tom Riddle was too weak a word for the blind fury that coursed through his veins.  He wanted to destroy him.

"Er. . . Nikolai?"

Startled, he jumped in his seat at the sound of his roommate's voice.  Turning around to face Abraxas, Nikolai pasted a blandly surprised expression onto his face, raising his eyebrows just enough to convince his fellow Slytherin that he was presently capable of feeling an emotion other than hatred.

"Oh, hello there, Malfoy," said Nikolai casually.  "I didn't see you there.  Did you need something?"

The blond boy eyed him curiously, frowning slightly.  "No, I was only wondering if --"

"Fantastic.  I'll leave you to your wondering, then," Nikolai said quickly, turning back around to pretend to examine the open book lying in front of him.

Sighing, Abraxas took a step closer.  "You know you can't go on like this forever, right?  The world will keep on turning, no matter how stubborn you may be or how much of an idiot your sister is.  So come out of it, Travers.  This behaviour of yours, it isn't healthy."

Nikolai didn't dare show that he agreed with each word uttered by his friend;  instead, he let his headstrong nature get the better of his conscience and feigned absentmindedly leafing through the volume before him as if waiting for a particular page to jump out at him.

"I know you can hear me, Nik," said Abraxas softly, the disappointment evident in his careful tone despite his best efforts to mask it.  "Although a friend of ours may think so, I'm no fool.  I know you're not well, and I'm not leaving until you're back to being yourself again, you hear?"

He did indeed hear, but exhibited no signs of it. 

"Don't play dumb with me, Nik."

"It's the deaf who can't hear, and the dumb who can't speak," Nikolai muttered under his breath.  "How I wish you would become dumb, Malfoy."

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that." Abraxas narrowed his eyes slightly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bedpost.

Nikolai rolled his eyes.  "Oh joy, so you're deaf as well, now.  What's next, blindness?"

Massaging the bridge of his nose in anguish, Abraxas did his best not to show his frustration.  "Look, I didn't come here to be mocked.  I came here because I'm worried about you, Travers.  We all are.  Especially that stupid sister of yours--"