Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Thirteen

  The library was relatively quiet. The sound of pages turning and scattered murmurs filled the atmosphere. All was calm, and Delilah felt a rare moment of contempt. She could almost pretend she was back home.

  Something lightly hit her head. She ignored it. Then again, something hit her head.

  "Psst."

  Delilah gritted her teeth. Anything good that ever came her way didn't ever last long, did it?

  "Psst, Del!"

  Sighing, Delilah closed her book and turned in her seat. Abraxas was leaning forward in his chair, his hair more wild than usual. He must've been messing with it. "What?" She snapped. He didn't flinch, just smiled timidly. "Can we talk?" He asked. Delilah raised a brow but nodded.

  Abraxas shot up in his chair and practically sprinted out of the library. He was obviously in a hurry. Delilah scrambled to get her things together and hastily chased after him, his long legs stalked down many halls, up stairs, and they reached the seventh floor.

  "The room of requirement?" She didn't think anyone else was aware of it. Abraxas appeared just as surprised. "Uh, Yeah. I just wanted somewhere quiet where we couldn't be overheard." He paced in front of the wall a few times before a door appeared. He opened it and gestured for her to go in first.

  Her mind screamed at her to turn and run. But her legs moved forward.

  It was a decent sized room, more like a study. High ceilings, tall windows, and numerous bookshelves with two plush chairs. "What'd you want to talk about?" Delilah plopped herself in one of the chairs, not too elegantly and Abraxas laughed lightly.

  "I just wanted to hear your thoughts on something." He sat himself down, his body language appeared stiff and anxious.

  Delilah quickly concluded he was nervous.

  "Well, I'm all ears." She tucked her legs underneath herself, letting her body sink into the soft velvet. She watched as Abraxas tried to make himself comfortable, he shifted his weight every few seconds and his hands fumbled. A blush was also creeping into his pale cheeks. Delilah's curiosity was building and she felt the urge to shake him, to yell at him to spit it out.

  "How do you know if you're worth someone's time? Not just their time, but, I mean their attention? How do you know if you're worth their affections? For them to care for you?" He asked, the words tumbling from his lips quickly. She blinked.

  Why in the name of Merlin did he come to her for this?

  She took a deep breath, drawing her eyes away from him to look at the many novels surrounding them. "Why ask me?" Her voice echoed around the room, making her feel small. Abraxas shrugged. "I don't know, you have a way of, well, never mind." He shook his head at himself.

  "No, what?" She pressed.

  "You have a way of looking at Riddle, I just thought..." he trailed.

  Delilah felt her jaw go slack. Was he pulling her leg? The only way she 'looked' at Tom, was with loathing or annoyance. A nearly hysterical laugh pushed itself from her lungs as she doubled over.

  "Think nothing of it. I can't stand him. He's... he's awful. And foul, he has no consideration for how he affects others, his morality is highly questionable, he'd probably kill me the second he sees an opportunity. He may be brilliant, and handsome, and charming, but he's an emotionally manipulative little fuck, okay? And I hate him. And he hates me."

  "That's not true, Riddle's had loads of times he could've killed you, but he didn't. I recognize that's not much. But he wants you around, y'know. He'd obviously never admit it. And the thing is, I've seen his hate. It burns like an fire, you can see it in his eyes. And that is never in his eyes when he looks at you." If Tom could hear this conversation, Abraxas had no doubt in his mind that he would send a killing curse his way.