April 18th, 1944
The first time Lina ever dreamed about Tom Riddle, it had been over a week since she had spoken to him last.
The dream began in the same dark corridor Lina had met Tom in. She was walking down the hall, looking out for troublemaking students sneaking around after curfew, or conversely, Peeves getting himself into even more mischief, when she finally spotted him.
Tom. Tall, dark, and utterly unearthly, he stood alone by the stained glass window a few feet away from her, peering intently out of it and into the dark horizon.
She found herself approaching him, trying to discover what it was he's looking at, but all she sees is the pitch black skyline with twinkling, tiny stars dotting the dark expanse of sky and brewing storm clouds. Tom turns to her, his eyes just as unrevealing and obscure as the view outside. They dig into her skin, making her shiver with icy anticipation.
"Lina." He whispers. His voice sounds faraway. His cold hand reaches up to her face, thumb stroking the soft skin he finds there. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes at the sensation. She feels his sculpted hand move across her face and drift downwards, where his fingers close lightly around both sides of her jaw. Her eyes open at this, and he stares down at her, his gaze expressionless and eerie.
His fingers begin to dig tightly into her jawbone, and she winces. Lina reaches up to push his hand away, but he squeezes even harder, hard enough for bruises in the shape of his fingerprints to begin to form.
"Tom, please." She breathes. He seems to think it over for a minute, his grip unrelenting and releasing tendrils of sharp pain up the sides of her face, but all at once he releases his tight hold on her, and Lina sucks in a shaky breath. To her surprise, Tom gives her a charming, crooked smile. Lina feels like she might melt.
His hand drifts lower, before it stops at her neck. It dances across the skin, as though he's appraising the flesh there.
Abruptly, he reaches out and closes his fingers gingerly around her throat, not tight enough to cut off her air supply, but with enough pressure to make her begin to squirm and panic in his grasp. Her smaller hand flies up to his, trying to pry his cold limb off of her, but Tom swats her away with his free palm, chuckling.
Tom leans in closer, past her face, his hot breath tickling her ear. All at once, his fingers tighten around her throat, cutting off the flow of oxygen to her brain. She tries to push him away from her, but her legs feel stiff, frozen solid, and she can't move them. Her lungs begin to burn, aching for air.
"Would you die for me, Lina?" He says in a soft, breathy voice. She can't breathe, and her mind feels hazy. He pulls back again, smiling with his teeth, but to her horror, his usual pearly whites are coated in crimson blood. He laughs softly, and it chills her to the bone.
Tom leans in, his lips nearly touching hers. "Better yet...would you live for me?"
At this, Lina was lurched out of her dream abruptly, still panicking, beginning to hyperventilate before she realized that she's really in her bed, safe, and Tom's cold, soft hands aren't closed around her throat and suffocating her. She attempted to quiet her labored breathing, trying not to wake Eden up, who was snoring softly in the bed across the room. Strawberry curls stuck limply to her sweaty forehead, and she felt terribly shaken.
After spending a few quiet minutes calming herself down, she settled back down under the covers of her bed. For the rest of the night, Lina couldn't bring herself to fall back asleep. She still felt Tom's stiff fingers around her throat, icy and haunting.
~~~~~~~
Tom wasn't in the Great Hall for dinner the next evening. Lina wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
