In a difficult time, where Frankie desperately needed Tom the most, he had suddenly decided to turn his back on her. Lately, he'd been giving her the cold shoulder in classes and after meals, pretty much every time their paths crossed. He wouldn't even show up to the secret meetings he'd planned for their year in the Room of Requirement. Frankie played it off like he had caught her small cold at first to cover for him, however, people soon became suspicious of this when he showed up for classes completely fine and seemingly healthy. Besides, Tom was never one to catch a cold. Then, the other Slytherins, like Malfoy and Lestrange, eventually began skipping too and less people seemed to be motivated to prove their intelligence without Tom to challenge them. The group diminished and their efforts suddenly stopped. It was surprising how much Tom was actually the one holding everything together, when Frankie was the one they were all supposed to be trying to help.
"Don't fret about it so much. I'm sure it's not because of anything you did."
It was another early Sunday morning in February and, instead of getting ready for a Sunday walk with Tom, Frankie was sulking on her bed in Gryffindor dorms. Tom had been strangely avoiding her for an entire month already, but on Sundays the feeling of neglect really hit hard. It was supposed to be their day. Daphne and the other girls were trying to make her feel better, but like usual it wasn't working very well.
"He'll come around eventually. I'm sure he's just a bit stressed with everything that's going on." Daphne was reassuring her, to no avail.
"I suppose..." Frankie sighed, although she knew that was not the case. Tom was a pretty sensible person, and he probably had a good reason for doing this, whatever it was.
"Why don't you write him? You haven't done that in a while." Belle reasoned. The other girls nodded in agreement. Frankie sighed and retrieved a quill, a pot of ink, and a piece of floating parchment. She knew from experience that he wasn't going to write back, but she thought she might as well humor them.
*~*~*
Meanwhile, in Slytherin dorms, the boys were getting ready to go out and enjoy the late snowfall they had been graced with this month. All except one. Tom sat on his bed surrounded by various textbooks and long rolls of parchment that rolled out all the way to the floor, buried in some sort of intense work. The other boys took him in for a moment, wondering if they should disturb him or just leave. It was a dangerous decision. Disturbing him would definitely have bad repercussions. Even though he was supposed to be a different person with everything going on, he had suddenly snapped back to being cold and cruel to everyone and anyone. Lestrange, Avery, and Malfoy eventually agreed it wasn't worth the effort to ask him to join them and went downstairs. However, Peter lingered on. He drew closer to Tom's bed, while he continued on diligently working.
"We're all thinking about meeting tonight. Are you skipping out again?" Peter mucked up the courage to say.
"Yes. I need to study." Tom replied, not looking up from his ancient runes textbook for even the slightest second to address him.
"Really? You're the only one who has already read the textbooks front-to-back—"
"What're you implying, Peter?" Tom sneered, cruelly. The boy before him shriveled up immediately at the harsh glare. Bothering him was a mistake.
"Nothing. Never mind..." Peter mumbled, with a sorrowed sigh. He was a typical 'no conflict' type of person, who was spineless and gave up far too easily, which is why the old Tom liked him better than someone like Malfoy, or Lestrange. Although, in a fleet of courage, at least Peter had tried. That was more then what could be said for the others. He left Tom in his sea of study and headed quickly downstairs to join the rest of the Slytherin boys. They waited at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly knowing what kept him, and were waiting for a verdict, "He's not budging an inch."
YOU ARE READING
𝕬 𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕳𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |
FanficA prequel (sort of) to "A Dark Lord is Born". If you were to ask anyone from the class of 1945 what happened during their second year of school, you're bound to get some fuzzy recollections. How bad does an entire year have to go for someone to Obli...
