Mine || Tom Riddle

Chapter Two

You were sitting at his table in the library, and it was by choice! Third week of term and you were already closer to him! Well, you were here to work on potion's work. But you had come ten minutes earlier than agreed upon!

"This assignment is pointless. We do not learn the real way to create antidotes until year six! And even then, antidotes are pointless! There are endless amounts of poisons, and no one carries every antidote. We should be learning how to procure a bezoar! That is a helpful lesson!"

He loved how you could get so mad, and fight something so silly. He would play along. "But even then, who carries around a bezoar." He was amazed when you pulled a box from your bag.

"Call me paranoid." He wouldn't do that, it was a genius move.

"Where did you get it from."

"Knicked it. Slughorn keeps a box of them, bit of a klepto. Who knows when I might need it." He was thrilled you would share so much with him.

"Are you that concerned that someone might poison you?" He liked how condescending he sounded. Didn't want you to think that you had impressed him. No, that would give you power.

"More concerned that if I ever have to poison someone, I can put the poison in my own drink and survive. No one would suspect me."

He could see a flaw in your plan, but loved that you had a plan for murder. "Is it not suspicious that you have a bezoar in the first place?"

To his surprise, she laughed. "Oh Riddle, of only aurors were as smart as you." You leaned closer to him. "The thing is, when they come to investigate, all the close minded wanna do-gooders will see is a distraught girl with poison in her drink, devastated that she was quick enough to live but her uncle died."

Your eyes go wide as the reality of what you said hits you. You go to stand, but he grabs your arm. "Sit Alexandrov." He wished he could have called you Ivetta. "I won't tell."

The panic dies down, a little, and he smiles at you. "Well, I didn't think you had such a dark side."

"You mustn't tell Riddle. Please, you don't understand!" He opens his mouth to promise again, but you aren't finished. "Swear to me Riddle. Tom. Please." You used his name.

He tries not to go berserk. He despised his name, his stupid, common name, but when you said it, with your accent more prominent in your anger, he didn't hate it so much. He brings himself back to the current situation.

He places a hand on yours, it seems like the right thing to do at the moment. "I swear on my life that I will never tell."

Your face filled with relief "Cпасибо." He didn't recognize the word, but it didn't matter. He wasn't finished.

"But you have to give me something."

The panic is still gone, but something else sparks in your eyes, you sense a challenge, he can tell. "What do you want?" Your voice is one of a negotiator, sickly sweet yet strong as steel.

Information. You. Power. You. He wanted so many things, the list would go on forever. But for now, he could settle on answers. "I want to know," he pauses here, liking the way your foot taps impatiently. He knows he has you. "Why a girl like you has a plan to kill her uncle."

"Because I'm sure he has a plan to kill me." This left a silence between the two of them that went unbroken. That was not the answer he expected, and now he was rather perplexed. Not because of the answer, but because of the sense of kinship he felt, At that moment. You knew what it was like. To be hated because of something you can't control.

You are giving him an odd look. It's as if you can see what he is thinking. Or like you believe you said too much. "This essay isn't going to write itself Alexandrov."