Tom Riddle One Shots

Seat at the Table

10 years. 

10 years since my smooth-sailing school life fell into the hands of Tom Riddle. 10 years since my perfect grades faltered and so did my clean record. 10 years since I was kicked out from a so-called-prestigious school called Hogwarts and lost my ability to preform magic. 10 years since Tom Riddle shattered my life and took my heart down alongside it. 

10 years and now finally I get my chance to spit in his face. Flaunting everything he wanted and never was able to grasp. Poor golden boy, how inadequate of him to fail so miserably.

The mirror I'm applying my makeup in is blurred with smudged hand prints and I clench my teeth as I try to get a better view of where my eyeliner is near my eye. My knuckles are white against the desk as I try to hold myself close to the mirror. 

A knock at the door drags my attention away from my task and I sigh, placing the pencil down and taking a step to the door. I swing it open, Fiona smiling on the other side. Her smile falters when she catches my confusing eye makeup: one eye perfect the other one still in progress.

"The others are waiting in the lobby. The guy at the desk is threatening to kick us out soon so hurry up, honey," Fiona rattles, her American accent thick through her thin lips. 

I always found the way she talked funny. I've spoken to plenty of Americans and they all had a similar accent but it was the words Fiona used that intrigued me. Fiona would call anyone "honey" or "sweetheart" and would say strange expressions such as "like kissing your cousin". And she's only the mere age of 28. I would expect the same from an older lady around 60 but from her? It was definitely unexpected. When I told her that she laughed and said she grew up around a lot of older "folk".

I nod, "give me a minute. I promise that's all I need."

Fiona raises an eyebrow but nods, retreating back into the dingy hallway towards the elevator. This motel was less than ideal but I made due. I lived worse than this when I was 17 so I am almost positive I can handle anything. 

My nerves run wild in the silence. My heart hammers against my ribs and my hand won't stop shaking. I've planned this day for years. I would dream about this day every night and now it's here and I can't seem to even breath. The way he still holds this much over me is infuriating.

 I shut the door, shifting myself back onto the desk and putting the pencil back up to my eye.

--

I tried waiting for the elevator but it was taking too long and I got antsy.

My footsteps echo in the stairwell as I nearly sprint down the stairs, careful not to trip over my black cloak. The door to the lobby opens with a loud click and the crowd of people turn their eyes to me, Fiona stepping out from the center.

"My lady," she bows her head to me. She never addressed me informally in public. The others bow their heads in the same motion, their eyes only leaving me for a second before snapping back up as if I'd disappear if they looked away.

The front-desk-boy, "Aaron" as stated on his badly scratched name tag, shifts his eyes between the crowd and I with his mouth agape. My eyes rest on him for a moment, his cheeks heating up as he ducks behind the desk as searching for something. I turn back to Fiona with a satisfied smirk on my face.

She steps forward, taking my arm and leading me through the crowd towards the exit of the motel. Eyes follow me, as I stop before the exit.

"Shukumar?" I turn to the teenage boy at the exit. He stiffens. "Please tip Aaron at the front over there. Tell him I apologize for the large crowd."

Shukumar nods hastily, pushing past the people behind him to do as told. I continue towards the exit, my high heels pinching the back of my ankle. I shouldn't have ran down the stairs.