Of Monsters and Men- Tom Riddle x OC

28

Sliding into the empty seat beside Tom, Animo was rather surprised to find him waiting for her. Or at least what she assumed was waiting. Tom had the habit of twirling his wand whenever he was growing impatient. For the last few weeks, the chair beside him in History of Magic had remained stacked with textbooks, a certain sign that Tom had no wish to interact with her.

"Wh—"

Tom jerked his head towards Binns, who had already begun the lecture, despite that it was five minutes until class started and she and Tom were the only ones present. Other than a few stubborn Ravenclaws, of course.

Sighing slightly, Animo pulled her parchment towards her to start taking notes on the Goblin Wars. It was a deeply fascinating subject, but her attention was nearly nonexistent these days. She patted the outline of the map of Nurmengard that she had tucked into her waistband. Finally, the first handful of floors had been traced, but she had no way to reach the upper levels. Perhaps—

There was a sharp nudge in her side and Animo opened her mouth, ready to reprimand Tom, when she saw the familiar handwriting jutting across the edge of the page.

Is Binns still droning on in the future?

A slight grin arched across Animo's lips as she leaned forward, scribbling her response in careful letters.

I'm afraid so. Can't die again, you know? An impish urge hurried Animo's hand forward. Perhaps that is your way to immortality.

Scowling, Tom sent her a withering glare.

Hilarious,Wal whatever your name is. But I would rather not rot in these halls for centuries. Not when there is greatness to be achieved.

Animo felt a flash of irritation, although it seemed as though Tom had redirected his attention towards her, a marked change from their usual encounters. A lazy smirk trailed the edges of his mouth and she got the feeling that he was probing her on purpose.

And 'greatness' involves collecting a bunch of ancient objects and tainting them with your soul?

What a disappointment. I thought you 'believed' in me.

Glaring at Tom's evident enjoyment of toying with her, Animo didn't bother to respond to his taunt.

Shouldn't you be taking notes?

Tom gestured towards the top of his desk where, to his right, one of his expensive quills was hard at work, bobbing to keep up with Binn's words. A flash of begrudging admiration flared in Animo's chest.

"Where did you learn that spell?" she murmured softly, finally realizing that the majority of the class still hadn't arrived. And the Ravenclaw two desks down was scribbling so furiously, he had ink spots on his nose.

Leaning back, Tom pulled a dark arts book from beneath his robes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You really are the most arrogant wizard," Animo returned, setting down her quill as she noticed that ink was beginning to stain her fingers.

"Tell me about the future, Wal—Annie," Tom decided, appearing tired of her alias. "How do I rise above the rest of the wizarding world."

Tapping her fingers distractedly on the top of her knee, Animo mulled over her response. She had decided long ago to lie to Tom as little as possible. After all, if she was attempting to gain his trust and prove that the right path was worth the struggle, she couldn't build on a foundation of deceit. "Dumbledore is headmaster."

At this, a furious scowl deepened the furrows on Tom's forehead. "Of course, he is. That bumbling fool would never settle for anything less." He clenched his left fist, straining the skin about his knuckles. "He already has Dippet in his back pocket."

Animo didn't bother to defend her honorary brother. Tom would never see reason when it came to Albus. And it wasn't as though Albus had painted a wonderful portrait of himself during this decade. "Hmmm," she settled back, letting the wood of the chair bore into her spine, "Lyall's son is a professor."

"Populating the world with further idiocy," Tom drawled, remarkedly unimpressed. "Again, no surprise."

Tilting her head in disapproval, Animo regarded the Slytherin with a sharp gaze. "From what I heard, he was—is a brilliant man. Had to deal with Lycanthropy most of his life."

Disgust flashed across Tom's dark gaze. "And they let a halfbreed around children?"

"Dumbledore was the only one that knew, I believe," Animo didn't want to think about Severus Snape. She had never liked the overgrown bat. "And don't be rude. It's not like it was his fault."

"They have filth—"

"And you had werewolves in your ranks." Animo shot back, her temper flaring in defense of the kind man, "they seemed to do your dirty work just fine." The memory of Fenrir's blood-crusted claws had yet to leave her mind.

There was a brief pause as Tom nearly gaped, his posture slack before he seemed to recall his dignity and his eyes shuttered out his emotion. "I'm sure I had good reason." The pained twist about Tom's mouth told Animo that the confidence was forced.

"Yes, I assume something to do with your need for 'fear'." Twisting the edge of a strand of hair, Animo watched it spiral out into pale white waves. "But your ideals certainly went down the drain. Those.. men," she struggled the give Fenrir the recognition of such a term, "were a terror to anyone who crossed their path." She glanced over to see that Tom was waiting in unnerving silence, biding his time so that Animo would continue to divulge more about his future self. "And I'm not an idiot!" she raised an eyebrow, "I'm not saying anything else on the subject."

Looking distinctly irritated, there was a long bit of silence and the calculating gleam in Tom's gaze grew. Finally, he tilted his head in mock interest, although Animo knew he was trying to bait her. "You said that you 'heard' Lyall's offspring was a professor. Does this mean you did not attend Hogwarts?"

For a moment, Animo was taken aback and all she could think of were the lonely years she had spent hiding in the castle's walls. She had not expected Tom to inquire about her own life. "No," she replied slowly, the deep ache of a childhood lost filling her chest. "I did not."

"Yet, you seem very familiar with the castle," Tom began to stack his books while Binns dismissed the class, finally realizing that most of the seats were empty. "Better than most."

Not bothering to save her parchment, Animo waved a hand and wiped away her and Tom's writing before heading towards the door. "I spent some time here."

A furrow creased the skin between Tom's brows as he struggled to piece the puzzle of Animo's life together. Evidently, his patience wore quickly and it wasn't long before the Slytherin caught up with her steps, making sure that he remained slightly in front. "During the summers, I take it."

"I was here during the summers," Animo allowed slowly, knowing that she couldn't explain one part of her history without revealing it all. An amused smile burst on her face as she saw that Tom's jaw had resumed its twitching. "What, never met a problem you couldn't crack?" She tilted her head, observing the boy's side profile. "Perhaps I'm more of a riddle than you are."

As she and Tom turned the corner, Animo caught the shimmer of gray silk. Albus stood in the doorway of his classroom, his hair combed neatly back as he observed her and Tom with a shrewd expression. Having grown up with the man as her sole companion, it was easy for Animo to read the disapproval in Albus's blue gaze.

She shifted a bit closer to Tom, feeling rather hurt at Albus's silent treatment over the last few months. Whatever he had experienced with Gellert, he was refusing Animo's help and now, Animo sensed that the climax was building on her horizon. The confrontation that she had spent most of her left waiting for. Glancing at her side, she observed Tom's sharp figure and the confidence that leeched through his every step. What Tom's place in that was, she didn't know. But she was rapidly developing an undeniable attachment towards him.