Before Forever|| T.M.R

Epilogue

"Baby tell me how did you get so cold enough to chill my bones"
-Cold, Maroon 5

***

"Let me go!" she shouted kicking her legs around and about, the two men holding her tightened their grips upon her arms not sparing her a glance as she cried. The dungeon echoed her screams, and they were both positive he could hear them, and they didn't exactly know how to feel about that.

She knew them both from school, Nicholas Avery and Maxwell Knott, dragging her down this long dark corridor to Merlin knows where. Valencia's heart was beating rapidly in its placement, she was having a hard time adjusting to the dim lighting. Meaning, everything looked the same, she couldn't tell where she was.

She had been snatched away from her home late during the night, these two broke into her bedroom and grabbed her, apparating her to wherever the hell they were then. She was scared, confused, she had no idea what she had done to deserve this poor treatment, she had never even spoken to them.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked yanking her arms away from their grips, she managed to slip was from Knott, knowing that he was the smallest of the two, known for his superior intelligence. She fell backwards into Nicholas, unfortunately he grabbed onto both of her arms and pushed her up against his chest so she was facing the entrance to a room.

Maxwell had been slammed against the wall when she pulled away, and he was rubbing the back of his head trying to conceal the anger building up inside him. He gave her a disgusted glare before scoffing and grabbing her arm again, this time painfully tight, making it known she wasn't going to escape from him again.

"Why are you doing this to me? Where are we going? I want to go home," she shouted thrashing around like a rabid animal, truth be told Valencia Elizabeth Young was a fighter, she didn't plan to go down without some sort of fight. Which she had been giving them a hard time this entire journey, and they were growing quickly impatient.

Avery pushed her towards Maxwell, as he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a large golden key fit for the lock in front of them. Without a word being spoken he twisted it inside the door's handle and it squeaked open, making a loud noise of entrance.

The light consumed all of their visions, the confusion between the dark hallway and the bright room taking its toll on all of them. Until it was forcefully opened more widely, and it revealed what to be her future for the next few years.

Firstly, her eyes landed on the large throne in the middle of the room, where her mouth fell agape to the size and the material used to build it. Gold, diamonds lined around his seat, it was baffling just how wealthy this whole mansion seemed to be. She was rich sure, but not even she had ever seen riches like this in her presence.

Then, her vision went to the person in the throne. Tom was tapping his fingers slowly against the arm chair, his head tilted to the side, he looked far different than when she had last seen him. Which was graduation about a year back in Hogwarts, last she had heard he had joined forces with the Malfoy's publicly.

"Ah, it took you three long enough," he said slowly, his voice filling the room, she didn't know why but upon her skin grew goosebumps and her spine shivered instantly. She recognized it and remembered it fondly, but she didn't know why. She hated him, everything he did at school, how he acted when in her presence. She despised that man.

"Bring her to me," he demanded getting up from his spot in his chair and taking careful steps down back to the floor, his expression never faltering the tiniest bit. Avery and Knott exchanged glances before pulling her toward him, seeing his eyes light up visibly when she got closer. "Easy, don't hurt her."

Valencia was panicking, not wanting this man to touch her, her eyes were erratic going around the room for some sort of escape. She saw a few more men that she knew to be, Abraxas Malfoy, Icarus Lestrange, and Renold Rosier. None of them were acknowledging her, apart from one, Rosier met eyes with her briefly before he looked back at the ground gulping loudly.

She only snapped out of her trance when a hand slid to her chin and she was forced to face his eyes, his now reddish irises that she could've sworn to be marine blue. His lips tugged upwards into a smirk as his sights flickered to her mouth back to her eyes. She didn't know what to do or what to say, she could only stare back, confused of what she was feeling.

She couldn't explain for anything what it felt like when he touched her, it felt like his finger tips were exploding with fire against her skin. Of course she would never admit that to him directly, or really to herself. So, she decided that it was merely because of his attractive looks, he was known for his handsome exterior and sour interior.

Besides their small relationship, more of a fling, she couldn't recall any interactions with him. He was the man who took her virginity, the man who controlled her life front to back, and the man who in the end got broken up with for his possessive behavior. She had no intention on pursuing any romance with him, and was certain she never would.

"Ah, there she is. My pretty little witch," he purred smoothing out with his thumb, his stare hardened almost instantly when he felt her uncomfortable stance. He couldn't believe she could stand there before him, a man who had become respected by many in such a short time period, a man she once called her lover, and act as if none of it affected her at all.

"You've matured since the last time we spoke, your hair is longer, beautiful as always. Demeanor held brightly, just as it was back in school. Your lips are fuller than I remember," he mumbled moving his thumb to her bottom lip and sliding it across, he saw it wobble a bit and fell into a very short trance of what it would be like to kiss them nowadays. It had been so long. "Nice none the less."

Valencia narrowed her eyes shaking her head out of his grasp and biting back the need to send every curse she knew of in his direction. Although, she wasn't sure if she could even win against him in a duel. He was after all, known not only for his looks, but also for his endless array of winning against other wizards and witches.

"Don't touch me," she growled pulling her arms away from Nicholas and Maxwell's grips, which they for some reason allowed. She instantly began to rub her wrist, where a small purple bruise had began to form. When she looked back up she saw Riddle's eyes were glued to the marking on her, his nostrils flaring.

However, almost like it never happened, he stopped. He looked up to face her and tried his absolute hardest to conceal any emotion, and oddly enough it worked in the best way possible. He looked vacant of any feeling at all. "Don't worry Young, this is strictly business," he said walking past her, his shoulder brushed against hers, and she heard softly, almost as a whisper, "you should get used to me touching you though."