Stop running from me (A Tom Riddle Story)

Slowly unlocking

Tom sat rigid in the chair. His chair, right by the fire of the common room.

It wasn't often he'd be awake this early. Five o'clock was early even for him, but he was troubled.

His plans were working but at a slower pace than his last year: the year he found the chamber. His chamber.

He wished he could open the chamber, letting the basilisk kill every unworthy soul that dared to walk the halls of his noble ancestor... but Dumbledore was watching him. Closely, with an almost creepy attention that made Tom slither with anger.

He was running out of ideas, and he wanted power. Ultimately he had it. The teachers fawned, the boys followed... they all followed him.

Except for her.

From day one, she refused.

Her power dominating even his own, and he both liked and hated that. No one had ever refused his orders. She was a challenge that weaved through his thoughts like a spun web.

One month it had been. One month since the day he challenged her and she fought back.

Tom had to admit he was fascinated by her – physically and mentally.

Auburn hair was rare in Slytherin, most were black haired or brown, red hair made her visible. And not just to him. Still he had noticed with a burning displeasure that even with her hair up per his demand, boys still watched her. Staring at the ground on which she stood as if she were a heavenly being that made the earth glow at her very touch.

It filled him with resentment – he felt a need for her. A strange pull. She belonged to him.

Her eyes captivated him the most.

Her left eye was a burning flame: A flame that grew hot and filled her iris with wrath and beauty. It refused to be contained, condemned to die into ashes, a tame fire. It was a flame that like her soul, was ignited with a fever that consumed and destroyed in a beautiful, deadly way.

Her right eye was the colour of a newly bloomed bluebell from the valleys around Hogwarts, enchanting, delicate. Like the flower her gaze was never direct, preferring a shy earthbound focus.

But through her polite and shy exterior Tom could see a darkness that swirled, hiding but occasionally thrusting into the light. He had seen this evil the day he angered her. It had swirled in her eyes, an evil that manipulated so easily even the black of night was bound to its will.

There was no denying she was powerful.

And useful.

Tom wondered if he could bind her to his will. She was a fighter but he had a suspicion. A suspicion that made him want to be the lord he was born to be.

He had a feeling she liked him, one month and she smiled at him numerously, stared at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

He captivated her, she fascinated him.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

It was her casual voice, like he was a friend to her. Like he meant something to her. Turing his head, his eyes met hers. She was in her robes, her hair in a messy bun. As Tom stared he could see she looked warn. Pale. As if something had frightened her.

Without waiting for him to reply she moved past him.

"Where are you going?" Tom asked, standing so he could see Esmeralda in full view by the common room doors.

She bit her lip and shrugged in a defeated sort of way.

"I just... need some time to breathe." Her eyes never quite met his.