"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
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December 14th, 1946
Cerys woke up in cold sweat, heart hammering against her rib cage, eyes wide as she struggled to breath. Shakily sitting up in her bed, Cerys ran a hand through her dampened hair, the other clenched around her wand before hand— an old habit that was now becoming reoccurring. She'd be lying if she said it was the first time she was experiencing nightmares in a while. She glanced down at her necklace. Ever since Tom had ruined her previous trinket, her dreams were plagued with Tom's future self and the battle of Hogwarts. Red stained her vision, screams smeared the atmosphere, ringing through her ears like the song of the siren.
It was about four in the morning. She still had a couple hours of sleep, but she couldn't help the way her heart dropped as she thought of her dreams. They made her mind wander to the worst of places, the worst circumstances. At times, she doubted herself. Who wouldn't? Tom Riddle had made a horcrux out of her family heirloom and made her wear it in order to mock her. On top of that, the only way to reverse his actions was for him to feel guilty over them. Cerys scoffed as she thought of it. A psychopath? And guilt? Merlin help her.
She thought to Helena Ravenclaw. The ghost seemed so sure of Cerys, it was sort of terrifying. Why would she put her faith in a mere sixteen year old? Sure, she had survived a war, but just barely. What said she would win this one? This one was one against one. A sixteen year old witch against the most powerful and intelligent wizard in history.
Cerys sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. What was she supposed to do? Her only chance was to make Tom feel guilty, but she had no plan whatsoever. Laying her head back against the head board, she gazed out the window. Maybe she could go to the library and find something useful during her free period. She'd most probably have to go to the restricted section. Slughorn would help with that.
"Cerys?" Said girl turned her head to Fabula as her name was spoke. "What're you doing up? It's still early?"
Cerys shook her head. "I just woke up." She mumbled, slipping back into the sheets. "Don't worry. I'll go back to sleep." I hope.
✧
December 15th, 1946
"My Lord." Antonio Dolohov said quietly as he sat down in the chair besides Tom. The common room wasn't occupied with many students that morning, most took advantage of the little time they had before the holidays to spend it with their friends. Tom raised his eyes questioningly from the book in his hands. "I have a question, if you don't mind me asking."
"Go ahead, Dolohov." Tom said, leaning back into the velvet green cushion.
Dolohov hesitated. He had been wondering for quite some time now, but hadn't mentioned it, thinking Riddle would do something about it. After all, he made no mistakes, but as the days passed, Antonion only grew curious when Tom was taking no action. "It's about Grahamm." Tom merely cocked a brow at him. "You've mentioned before she knows much more than she lets on, especially about the school, yet you haven't confronted her. Aren't you curious?"
