Mine || Tom Riddle

Chapter Seven

"You're playing quidditch! Are you insane? I didn't know you could even fly! Why didn't you tell me!" You hissed this at him in the middle of herbology. With an air of nonchalance he responded in a steadier voice.

"I thought you weren't speaking to me." 

You look flustered. "Well I am now! You don't do reckless things Tom! They get people hurt! If you want to play, fine, I can't stop you. Just...be careful."

He turned to face you. "Are you worried about me Ivetta?" He drew out the words, as mocking as he could muster.

"Shut up Tom." After a moment, "Of course I'm worried." He smiled, as you mumbled something he didn't understand. 

"If you're so worried, come with me tonight while I practice."

"But I'm not talking to you, remember?" You looked just a tad too smug for his liking. He leaned closer, smirking.

"You still sat next to me everyday. We studied every night. Actions speak louder than words. Quidditch pitch. Seven o'clock." It was almost if he had planned it, the bell ringing exactly as he finished. He wiped the dirt off his hands and walked away, not looking back, but he knew you were staring as he walked away.

There was some truth to your words, it probably was reckless. But you had no concept of the things at play behind his decision. He didn't know if you would even show up, but he would make sure you were there one way or another. This would be his last chance to practice before the chance to replace the current seeker. It was cruel to kick someone of the team mid season, but the Slytherin team was known for winning, not kindness.

He, however, did not intend on practicing. His plan was to bring you with him to hogsmeade and figure out who was sending you letter. The very hard to come by bottle pressed against his leg would make these answers come much more quickly. You were lucky he was so focused on looking out for you he had broken into Slughorn's stores to get veritaserum. He would be doing you a favor, making sure this 'friend' was benign. The chances of that looked slim, seeing as you weren't sharing his identity in the first place.

Seven o'clock did not come quick enough. Much to his surprise, he saw your outline as he approached the pitch. Arms crossed and muttering in Russian, he could tell there had been a great internal battle on showing up. He walked quietly, but as soon as he was five feet away you wheeled around to face him. 

"Where is your broom? Are thy so small now you can not see them? In Russia, they fly on uprooted trees, you know? Here, the amount of deaths would be so catastrophic it would lose the entertainment." He was suddenly very glad he was playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. 

"I didn't bring it. We're going to Hogsmeade." Your brow furrowed.

"What do you mean? You said you were going to practice. I'm not going Hogsmeade Tom, I didn't even want to come here tonight!" 

He let a small smile spread across his face. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I wanted to make sure you wouldn't die tomorrow when you try out! This is absurd, we aren't even allowed out of the castle, much less wandering the village!" 

He laughed at this. "What happened in the past weeks that made you such a stickler for rules? I always thought you didn't care."

"I stopped hanging out with you, that's what happened."

"Oh come on, Ivetta. It'll be fun. I'll buy you a butter beer." And spike it with truth serum. You hesitated, for a minute.

"Fine. But I buy my own drink, and I still don't forgive you."