Eight

Deception of Longing

  "A blood pact?" Rosalie asked him to reiterate uncomfortably. She prided herself on knowing about all kinds of dark magic, and it just so happened that that topic was one of the very few she had never read about. 

  Her father, actually, had been the one who forbid it. Reading on blood pacts was something he was more than against, though it was hardly the worst thing Rosalie had ever heard of. 

  In the hidden confines of Tom's shadowy room, he nodded for her, a simple jest that made Rosalie's heart plunge. She should've seen this coming, really, Coriolanus had mentioned something about a blood pact with Riddle.

  "You made the boys do this too?" She asked, interested in knowing the details of what she was about to do.

  Tom looked amused by what Rosalie had asked of him. He shook his head silently, turning to walk around the room.

  "No, I made an unbreakable vow with my inner circle, they cannot omit my secrets to outsiders and cannot harm me, otherwise they die." He spoke without concern, Rosalie nodded, understanding that it was what they had consented to to join Tom.

  "And what will the oath be then?" Rosalie stood remaining confident in Tom's presence as he walked around her like a predator inspecting his next meal. He stopped to look out of the window again, his hands dipping into his pockets.

  "I imagine it should be something similar, but, as a courtesy for you, I would have the oath be double sided." Tom spoke with generosity, his voice had a slight echo around the dark room, the sound bouncing off the walls and into Rosalie's ears.

  She swallowed, glad that he had been the one to propose the idea and not her.

  "You said you didn't want to be a slave." He spoke again when no words came out from Rose's mouth, he watched her back as she faced the wall.

  "Yes, you're right. I would think it unfair if it was only one sided and in your favour, Riddle." She finally spoke, her voice quieter from where he then stood. Tom was beginning to dislike the way his last name sounded on her tongue. 

  He walked up to her, standing behind her as she remained facing the wall, fidgeting with the dammed red ribbon that stayed put on her wrist.

  "In this oath, we commit to keeping each other's secrets between ourselves. And should the circumstance arise where one of us try and kill the other, it would also break our oath, ending in death." 

  Tom grabbed Rosalie's arm and turned her to face him, a nervous look washed over her face as she tried desperately to keep up with him. The oath meant she could never kill him without dying herself, it was a dent in her plan that she hadn't foreshadowed. It meant if it came down to all or nothing, she couldn't kill him.

  Rosalie would just have to find another way to take him down. A sudden determination filled her as she put on her facade, looking up at him with acceptance. 

  "Do you accept these conditions?" Tom asked formally.

  Rosalie nodded and trailed her eyes up and down Tom, preparing herself for a bond that would last a lifetime. The only way out of this was death.

  "I accept."

  Tom smiled, a sadistic look on her face. He wasn't a fool, he realised that Rosalie held a power that could potentially outweigh his own, and the thought unsettled him. It was a power that if she so desired, could bring about his demise. With this pact he felt as though he was containing a problem by putting it in a box and tying it up with a pretty red ribbon.

  Rosalie Evans could kill him if she really tried, though now it felt like she was stepping right into the palm of his hand, and she was giving him everything he could ever possibly want.

  "Give me your wand." He demanded with a cold tone, piercing her pretty blue eyes with his intense gaze.

   Rosalie delicately retrieved her wand from her pocket, presenting it to Riddle with a graceful gesture. He accepted it, scrutinising the intricate craftsmanship. Her wand seemed fitting to Tom- a modest 10-inch size, matching her small hands, with a dragon heartstring core encased in light willow wood. He held it in the air momentarily before pressing it against his palm. Rosalie watched on in desperate intrigue. 

  With deliberate slowness, the wand traversed across his palm, causing a sharp incision that reached the edge before he released it. Blood began to trickle down his arm, but he paid no heed to it. Without a second thought, Tom retrieved his own wand from his pocket.

  Rose accepted the wand from his unbloodied hand and examined it as he had done with hers. It was a grey wand, almost 14 inches, with a phoenix feather core. She sensed the latent power within it, almost feeling the emotions of every spell it had ever cast. Distant screams echoed in her ears, but she shook off the unsettling sensation.

  Tom looked at her with expectance, and she looked down, holding the tip of the wand to the opposing hand of Tom's. She pressed it to her skin, feeling the unsettling sensation of her skin ripping open, blood tearing from the skin's seems. A wave of power washed over her, and she wondered if it was because of the pact, or because she was using Tom Riddle's wand.

  Once the cut was made full, she unsuspectingly slipped Tom's wand back into her own pocket, Tom also copying her move. The two of them stood closer, holding the opposing hands up to the other. 

  The room was lacking of any and all noise as their hands slowly pressed together, Tom's eyes darted from their hands and to Rosalie's face, who was possessed in the moment, her eyes not leaving their connected hands while her lips parted in surprise. Slowly, Tom interlocked their fingers, and he gripped hard down on Rosalie's hand.

  She was reluctant at first, hesitant of the feeling of Tom's hand so desperately gripping onto hers, her fingers stayed locked upright. Their blood mixed between their palms and Rosalie looked at Tom's face under the moonlight.

  His dark eyes looked down on her beautifully, and his expression was calm and composed, she could see him breathing from how close she stood, and watched the small flare of his nostrils. 

  In taking this step, the stakes were simultaneously heightened and diminished. Having earned enough of his trust to undertake such an action, Rosalie couldn't predict how Tom would respond if he ever uncovered her true identity. She couldn't bare the thought, he would want to kill her- but he wouldn't be able to.

  Maybe he would turn to torture. Rosalie swallowed.

  After a short moment, she squeezed his hand back, too far to pull out then. She had to hope her cover would never be blown. Immediately Tom closed his eyes, muttering an incantation under his breath.

  And as quick as he had started it, it was over. Tom's eyes slowly fell open, laying themselves back down on the girl in front of him, who stared back up at him with a look of astonishment. 

  It was done, he thought. 

  Nothing could sully between them, he thought. 

  They were bonded for life, he thought.

---

  As the moon cast its silvery glow over the windowed corridors of Hogwarts, Tom and Rosalie walked side by side towards the door to the empty classroom the party was being held in. They hadn't spoken a word since they had left Tom's room, and the silence was dull and brittle.

  Tom stopped them by the entrance, the jazz music from within already seeping through the walls and out into the empty corridor where they stood. He looked down and slightly towards Rosalie, who was already wondering why he had stopped them.

  The cuts on both of their hands were still fresh, the blood had dried and been cleaned, but the evidence was still there. Tom examined his own wound, still unsettled by the idea that he had bled for another person willingly. 

  To both Tom and Rose's surprise, Tom held up his arm in an offer for Rosalie to take it. As usual when it came to Tom Riddle, Rosalie hesitated, before wrapping her own arm around his.

  Tom nodded, refusing to think about how he felt with Rosalie on his arm. Rose reached out for the door handle, and they walked through into the room.

  The room had been eloquently decorated with rich, dark hues and subtle touches of candles and matching furniture. The room was bright and had an intimate glow across the space, the air was thick with happy and loud chatter from the students in the Slug Club and their plus ones.

  Tom's eyes swept over the surroundings with little admiration, most of the time he thought these things were a waste of time. Fun had never been something he saw as necessary. Rosalie took in the ambiance, her senses tingling with a mix of curiousity and excitement, she had never attended something like this.

  The sound of the slow jazz music filled the air, Rose assumed this was Slughorn's taste in music, as it was a little older for the generation, it was 1943, not 1920. The room was alive with couples swaying gracefully to the music, their movements synchronised and paired with kind smiles.

  From across the room, Slughorn took his sight onto the two of them who were arm and arm, with a quick enthusiasm, he walked over to meet them, greeting them both with an awkward but sincere smile. The two greeted him happily.

  "Rosalie, my dear!" He began, reaching out for her hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles, Rose beamed at the man, "Professor Slughorn, lovely to see you."

  "And Tom, my boy!" He moved his eyesight to Tom happily, his most prized student. He took ahold of Tom's hand and shook it firmly. "Professor Slughorn." Tom nodded.

  "I'm happy that you both made it, I was worried a couple of my favourites had run off!" He snorted, Rosalie chuckled herself and Tom kept his perfect smile in tact.

  "We wouldn't even consider it, Professor." Rosalie shook her head, her arm still intertwined with Tom's. Unbeknownst to her, as the conversation unfolded, Tom subtly drew himself closer until there was no space left between them.

  "No, I dare say you wouldn't." Slughorn laughed again, pleased in general to see the two getting along so well.

  "Well, I must say to the both of you that you look wonderful this evening, and even better together! You look like a real couple." The man added, giving neither of them any time to explain themselves. 

  Tom and Rosalie looked rather uncomfortable at the statement, and slowly and surely Rose unlinked their arms. Tom stuck his arms behind his back, his mind racing to find a reply to such a stupid notion.

  "Yes, well, we thank you, Professor," was all he managed to muster up, his smile growing.

  Slughorn nodded happily, pointing them further into the room. "Well, please, enjoy the party. I'm sure I'll see you both later." He spoke, giving them both one last respectful nod before walking off to engage with some other unsuspecting students.

  The two of them walked to the corner of the room, looking natural in the small crowd of students talking to each other around the dance floor. Tom leant himself against the wall, he never spoke to anyone during these events usually, apart from frantic girls looking for a piece of him or teachers who were always eager to see him.

  "Champagne?" A boy, who Rosalie recognised as a Gryffindor student in their potions class, offered them both a drink.

  Rosalie gave him a soft smile, Tom watching her all the while, and she took a drink from his full tray. Rosalie looked back to Tom and asked him if he wanted one with a nod.

  "I'm alright, thank you." He nodded away the boy with a quick harshness. Rose rolled her eyes at the encounter, taking a sip of her champagne as she walked up to where Tom stood against the wall, and copied his movement of leaning on it.

  "You don't drink?" She asked amongst the lively chatter of students.

  "Never have, never will. I'm trying to live longer, Evans, not kill myself faster." Tom divulged his feelings a little, and Rosalie, to her surprise, felt like she was talking with a real person with a real soul, rather than the shell of a man Tom usually acted as.

  Rosalie gazed down at her drink, twirling it in her hand, captivated by the swirling bubbles. "But you choose to smoke instead? I can't decide which is worse," she remarked slyly, glancing up at Tom with a mischievous glint in her eye.

  He responded with a genuine smile, his features displaying a hint of vulnerability. Rosalie narrowed her eyes, attempting to discern whether the smile was sincere or concealed some kind of manipulative agenda.

  "How did you know?" Tom maintained his smile, and Rosalie found herself strangely drawn to it.

  Shaking her head, Rosalie straightened up. "Please, I can still smell it on you," she claimed, leaning in to sniff his shoulder. Tom furrowed his eyebrows in response to the unexpected gesture. "Yes," she insisted with a knowing nod.

  Tom laughed.

  Rosalie snapped her head in his direction, confirming the sound. Tom had laughed. The evidence lay in the glimpse of Tom's teeth she caught. However, as soon as Rosalie registered his laughter, his expression reverted to neutrality. Yet, she sensed that he hadn't entirely reverted to his usual cold demeanour.  

  She looked down, feeling ashamed that she should be the one to stop him from laughing, she found herself wondering why he didn't find more joy in everyday life, why she hadn't heard him laugh until just now, weeks after they had met. Tom wasn't the soulless boy that he claimed to be. Maybe there was something worth saving still.

  Under her gaze, she saw Tom's ring, a black stone that rather suited his whole aura. She looked up to him and tried to find that likeable boy that had appeared moments ago.

  "Where'd you get the ring from?" Rosalie asked with an interest. Tom instinctively looked down to it, gripping it with his other hand to look at the stone.

  Tom halted for a moment. "It's a family heirloom." He spoke rather vaguely, and suddenly Rose felt like she had just tapped into something that was a little bit too deep for a Slug Club party. She dropped the subject almost instantly.

  Rosalie nodded at his words, and watched as more people entered the Room, Amy and a Slytherin boy known as Raymond walked in, happily speaking to each other as they embraced the space around them.

  Rosalie felt a smirk playing on her face at the odd pairing. She tapped Tom's shoulder to get his attention, but unknown to her, she already had it.

  "Riddle, look over there." She pointed discreetly to them, leaning in slightly so Tom knew where she was talking about. He tilted his head.

  "Who, Rhone?" He asked, a little underwhelmed by the picture.

  Rosalie shrugged her shoulders. "Well, yes, Amy, but look who she's with. Raymond Claire." Her whole body shook at the thought of him. 

  "Well, you're right, that is a disturbing pair." Rosalie looked up at Tom's face and again, a smile threatened to break through.

  It seemed like the ice that Tom Riddle surrounded himself in was melting, and Rosalie was eager to see it. The two of them found amusement in the pairing, and began talking about their similar disgust for Raymond.

  "And he always smells of fish." Rose said, her arm pushing up against Tom's, both of their eyes were still trained on the pairing.

  Tom nodded in agreement. "Yes, I heard his family comes from a fishing village somewhere in Newquay." He spoke of what he knew, having the urge to cover his nose like he could smell Raymond from where they stood.

  "I'm surprised he's even made it to the last year of school with his grades." Rosalie furrowed her eyebrows, in a slight amazement at the man.

  "It's doubtful he'll pass this year." He looked down at Rosalie with a thawing smirk. "His luck has to run out at some point." He looked back with a more nonchalant expression.

  "Oh shit, they're coming over here." Rosalie hit Tom's shoulder in a panic, and he looked down on her coldly, which Rose ignored entirely. Amusement filled back into the sentence when he realised she had swore. Her manners were lowered. She was comfortable.

  Amy and Raymond made eye contact with the both of them, and began making their way over to the pair, Rosalie stood uncomfortably, whispering something just in range for Tom's ears to hear.

  "Amy has quite a thing for you, you know." She chuckled at the thought.

  "Yes, I think a lot of girls do." He remarked, without a sound of surprise in his tone.

  "You're pompous." 

  "Prideful, Evans."

  Before Rosalie could retort with a snide remark, Amy and Raymond approached them with friendly smiles.

  "Hey Rose, I didn't know you were in the Slug Club?" Amy inquired, sipping her champagne as Raymond greeted Rosalie with a nod. 

  Rosalie began to respond, but she was abruptly interrupted. 

  "She's my plus one." Riddle spoke from beside her, a mischievous grin playing on his features. Rosalie gave him an unimpressed frown. 

  Rosalie tried to ignore the absolutely flabbergasted looks that had been stuck to Amy and Raymond's faces when the words left Tom's mouth. Rose sighed and opened her mouth, begging not for Tom to suddenly become a sarcastic comedy star.

  "I am actually in the Slug Club, Slughorn invited me on the day of our mandrake project." She remembered the day with a slight shiver, not looking back at Tom for fear that she would remember something she rather wouldn't. 

  Amy looked slightly less shocked, her chest rose up and down rather fast, "Ah," she spoke, "I see, that makes more sense." She laughed slightly, looking dreamily at Riddle and then back to her own partner.

  "You're still my plus one, Rosie." The words slipped from Tom's mouth before he could even think about what he was saying. He wasn't even sure he knew where the knew nickname for her had come from, but the look of pure bewilderment on Rosalie's face was almost worth it.

  He had never had so much fun teasing someone before. Tom, in that moment, didn't feel the need to be anything but a student with a pretty date having a fun time at a party. He didn't think about anything else.

  Rosalie stared at Tom, astounded. A slight shiver struck a cord in her, she hadn't been called by that nickname since the last time she had seen her father. That had always been his nickname for her. Rose thought she would be more disgusted by the sentiment, but she found the name rather agreeable leaving his mouth.

  The surprise subsided after a moment. She decided to play along in his sarcasm, afraid that happy Tom might decide to leave at any moment.

  "Then that makes you my plus one as well, so how does that work, Riddle?" Rosalie challenged with a raised eyebrow, and Tom couldn't think of anything to go against her.

  Tom regained his hidden and calculated front when he went to look at Raymond, who was stupid enough not to be afraid of Tom.

  "So, Rosalie, would you fancy a dance?" he asked politely. Despite detecting the lingering scent of fish emanating from him even at a distance, and lacking any compelling reason to decline, Rosalie still felt an urge to do so. The reality was, dancing was a dreadful experience for her.

 Tom, noticing her hesitance and with a push of his evil side, began his coercion.

  "She would love to." Tom slipped his hand behind the small of Rosalie's back and gently pushed her forwards, forcing her to take ahold of Raymonds hand as he pulled her on to the dance floor. Tom ignored the harsh and tingling feeling in his stomach, pushing it off as being hungry.

  Rosalie looked back to Tom with anger, but her face only made him more amused. As Rose put her hands on Raymonds shoulders, she called out to Amy with an ecstatic and giggly look on her face.

  "Hey Amy, I'm sure Tom would love to dance with you. Wouldn't you Tom?" She yelled.

   Internally sighing, Tom reluctantly allowed the overly cheerful girl to take his hand and lead him onto the dance floor. Casting a disdainful glance at Amy, who appeared oblivious to his sentiments, he made no effort to conceal his aversion. Tom had little desire to be touched and prodded by such a foolish girl.

  His face typically bore an expression of disgust, making it challenging to discern whether he was acting normally or genuinely repulsed.

  As the enchanting melody of the waltz filled the room, the four of them began the movements The notes guided them through the steps, effortlessly twirling and gliding across the polished surface. Each movement synchronised to the rhythm, creating a scene of swirling dresses and suits against the ambient glow of the dimly lit room. The dance seemed to slow time, capturing Tom and Rosalie in the moment.

  "So, how is it that you're so smart?" Raymond asked Rose as he guided her around the room. Rosalie chuckled at the shallow question, she had certainly had more interesting conversation than this.

  Rosalie hummed for a moment, trying to find an answer to the bizarre question.

  "I've always been rather involved in my studies I suppose." She finally answered, looking up into his eyes to figure out if that was what he hoped to hear. Rose tried desperately to ignore the stench of fish.

  "Maybe that's where I go wrong, I barely pay attention to anything." He admitted, his words delivered with a straightforward honesty. The revelation prompted a genuine laugh from Rose, having her giggling like a young fox.

  Despite having a girl himself in front of him, Tom's focus remained fixated on Rosalie and Raymond. His lip curled in a deeper expression of disdain as he observed her laughing at his words. The abrupt shift in her demeanour puzzled him– he found the Rosalie who had been hurling insults moments ago at the exact man she was dancing with more appealing than this seemingly amused version.  Amy begged for his attention with her eyes, but he dared not look at her, just in case he sent her the wrong message.

  "How are you, Tom?" She asked.

  "Fine." He answered.

  "Do you like the party?" She asked.

  "It has its interests." He answered.

  Her shallow and useless questions continued as he watched Rosalie have a seemingly good time with some worthless fool who smelt of fish and could barely pass third year exams.

  Tom found all of this appalling. He hated dancing, and suddenly he remembered why it was so unusual for him to act as he did tonight, he ended up doing things that were miserable like this. Never again.

  The dance progressed, and Tom, unable to endure Amy's ceaseless chatter and unable to watch Rosalie be in the company of such a fool, excused himself.

  "Apologies, Amy. I need a break," he finally addressed her, his touch on her shoulder inadvertently giving her more hope than intended. Hastening away, Tom's heart forbade him from glancing back at Rosalie on the dance floor.  

  He found more solace in the sidelines rather than right in the mess of it all, He watched Rose continue her laughter with Raymond, the image etching itself into his mind for some perplexing reason that Tom couldn't seam to fathom.

  Slughorn, ever eyeing the pair up, approached Tom slowly. He followed the boy's eyesight to where he was staring, and as usual, opened his mouth to say something that was crossing a line.

  "Tom, I never took you for the kind of boy that would care for romance." Slughorn began, taking a stand next to him with champagne in hand, looking out at his students on the dance floor.

  Riddle's eyebrows furrowed and he looked across to his foolish professor, though Tom had to admit, Slughorn had always been a favourite of his, even his droning on did get excessive.

  "Sir?" He asked, confused by the sentiment.

  "I can see now that I was mistaken." He furthered his comment, sending a low and soft smile to Tom, his expression immediately leaving elsewhere.

  "I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm not sure that I follow exactly." Tom admitted, his hands behind his back in a neat manner.

  "I mean Rosalie, of course. It's quite plain to see the way you look at her. I cannot blame you though, Tom, she's a rather incredible specimen." Slughorn spoke, admiring Rose on the dance floor having fun without a care in the world. The Professor longed to be in her shoes again, young and naive of the world.

  Tom looked for himself again at Rose, he watched her smile and the gentle glimmer of happiness behind her eyes. She was a lone sunflower in a dried up field. He couldn't help but nod his head to agree with his Professor.

  "Well, she is, but-"

  "-Come Tom," Slughorn stopped him. "You've never been one for excuses." The Professor dipped his head at the boy, speaking seriously about all of it.

  "I think she might do you some good." Slughorn took one last long and serious gaze at Tom, who returned the favour, his face had turned cold and stiff, but not to his Professors surprise. It was the look he gave when he knew someone else was right.

  A moment of introspection seized Tom as Slughorn left his presence. Conflicted by unfamiliar emotions, he began to question the nature of his own feelings. There was no possibility of Slughorn's accusations having any truth to them, but Tom found his eyes drifting back to her.

  A sickening realisation began to dawn on Tom Riddle.

  He watched her body move around the room. He watched the pretty smile on her face. He watched the strings of the red ribbon on her wrist flow. He watched her soft hair fall behind her. He watched her light eyes glimmer under the candles.

  This was a sensation he had never felt before. It was full of vulnerability, and how Tom imagined it, weakness. Rosalie made him feel weak.

  The very thought of this alone was enough to prompt his abrupt departure from the party, he walked to the exit so quickly, it caught the eye of the girl who played in the forefront of his mind.

  Rose was taken out of the small world of pleasure she had from dancing, and watched carefully as Tom made a quick escape out of the door, not having one shroud of a doubt. She slipped her hands off of Raymond's shoulders, an unknown force to her pulling her body towards where she had seen Riddle run out.

  "Thank you for the dance, Raymond." She smiled at him.

  He could see there was something else playing on her mind, so he gave a small nod and let her go, searching back around for Amy. At her release, Rosalie rushed out the door, making her way into the corridor of which her and Tom had originally came. 

  She looked around, her eyes eventually settling on a distressed looking Tom, his hands ran through his hair quickly as he looked out from the window he stood by. Rose wasn't sure what to make of the scene, she had never seen him act like that before. 

  In fact, the whole night, Tom Riddle had acted differently then normal, she wondered the notion behind it, and also wondered if it had some manipulative backstory to it.

  Rosalie hadn't forgotten who the boy was. He was a suggested murderer, a manipulator, a man with little empathy. Rose still remained unsure as to what his master plan was, though she figured she was close to the truth. Tom was all the things she hated in one person; a copy of her own father whom she had once loved, but come to hate because of his views on the world.

  "Tom?" Rose finally called out as she came closer to him, Tom looked like he had seen a ghost, a look complete of betrayal playing over his face.

  He watched her concerned face stroll closer to him.

  "Leave me, Rosie." He spoke harshly, facing away from her.

  Rose looked down as she walked, with a wonder in her head. "Still don't know where you got that nickname from."

  Tom hesitated for a moment, he reached his arm out to the windowsill and leant himself against it, his hands gripping to the material so harshly that his veins popped. Rosalie still moved closer to him.

  "I think it suits you." He shrugged, trying to take his mind off her increasing closeness.

  "I used to think that too." She responded quickly, her head looking up again as she studied him in a calculated manner. He had more small talk than usual, like he was trying to convince her that he wasn't all the things she thought he was.

  It was despicable really, a trick to make her actually find him a likeable person. In some ways it did the opposite, Rose found herself detesting Tom in the moment, yet something made her move closer to him.

  "Why's that?" He asked, completely oblivious to her aversion to him.

  Rose sighed. "My father used to call me Rosie." She thought of the memories.

  "I see." Tom said, his eyes peeling away from her, wondering if it was a good or a bad thing. "Why did your feelings change?"

  Rosalie clicked her jaw.

  "Because he changed." 

  Tom didn't dare look at her now because of how close she stood. If he turned even an inch he was sure to smell her flowery perfume, and the maple syrup she had for breakfast that always seemed to linger. He would dee the deep and delightful look in her eye, and Tom wasn't sure what he would do about it all.

  Slughorn was right.

  "What's wrong Riddle?" Rosalie asked, with an air of sincerity.

  Part of him wanted to be truthful, but the greater part of him despised how he felt, feeling gross in his own skin. 

  "I don't bloody know." His grip on the windowsill tightened again, his head was turned to face Rosalie now, regarding her light skin under the moonlight.

  Tom, in a moment of heated confusion, leaned towards her, taking his hands off of the windowsill and down to his sides, envisioning desires and possibilities that swirled in his mind.

  "Come closer to me." He spoke in a low voice, and neither of them knew what he was talking about. 

  The calculated part in Tom wanted to test it, to see how far he could go without breaking, to see just how right Slughorn was about his inclination towards the girl. He hoped, for his sake, that he was completely wrong.

  "What?" Rosalie asked with a small stammer.

  "Just do it." He said, his voice bordering a plea and an order.

  Hesitantly, Rose walked closer to him, wondering what it was all about. Suddenly she was right in front of his chest, she felt a boost of sarcasm spill over her tongue, "Close enough?" She asked, speaking into his body.

  "Touch my chest." He demanded. Rosalie looked up at him, thinking the whole situation odd and unnecessary. However the look he gave her when he stared down was enough to scare her into doing it without another thought.

  She placed her hand over his beating heart, feeling it pump against her palm, the very palm she had cut into with Riddles wand only an hour or so ago.

  The continued eye contact sent a shiver down Rosalie's spine, but it felt like butterflies were trapped in her stomach when he leant down further to her, looking at her pink lips.

  Tom had turned his mind off, acting on pure instinct to get him through the rest of the situation. This was untamed territory for him, and he didn't trust that if he turned his mind back on, he might try and hex Rosie just for tempting him.

  He thought of pushing her against the wall, he thought of running his hand over her neck and her perfectly exposed collar bone, Tom thought about owning her, adding another possession to his collection.

  Rose thought only of her confusion and dislike for him, how he thought he could get anything wanted with a flick of his wand and a few Slytherin slaves to do his bidding. She hadn't even found the true depth of it all, but she could assume it would make her dislike for him even more apparent.

  Tom got closer and closer to Rosalie's lips, and even she herself started wondering what it would feel like if they touched.

  "Tom-" She spoke in a small breath. She pushed away from under him, removing her hand from his chest.

  "No." Was all she said, an almost invisible shake of her head.

  Rosalie couldn't do it. Not to herself and not to everything she stood for. 

  Within the few seconds that the rejection had left her mouth, Tom took three steps back from Rose. He seemed to have his own sort of revelation inside of his spinning head, one that made him feel weak and disturbed.

  Like the flick of a switch, his affection for Rosalie turned to stone cold indifference.

  "Fuck." He said lightly, a surprising word to leave Tom Riddle's mouth. His body was obviously shaken, and both of them stood uncomfortably, both wondering why he would have tried such a thing.

  Tom turned around without another word, leaving down the hallway and around another corner, leaving Rosalie once again alone in her thoughts.

She was far more than perplexed.