When The Devil Falls | Draco Malfoy x Tom Riddle

Chapter 22 | By you, I am Forever Undone

Previously on When The Devil Falls -
Tom didn't see Draco the next day or the day after. He wasn't present at Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner either. Going by the confused look on Harry's face, Tom realized the green-eyed boy didn't know where Draco was either. Asking Lucius and Narcissa would be futile. Oh, Merlin! How was it that it felt so scary to walk up to the blonde and apologize? The Dark Lord had never apologized to anyone before and never could have thought that it would be so scary. Well, Tom could only apologize if he could find the blonde. Right now, Draco Lucius Malfoy was missing. Not well missing really. The Malfoy Manor was too big. Tom just didn't know where to start looking. That was until he remembered the Cherry blossom tree.

The garden was bathed in the soft glow of the summer sun, casting a warm, golden hue over the blossoming cherry trees. Tom trod carefully through the serene landscape, guided only by the notion that Draco would be beneath the cherry blossom tree. The anticipation gnawed at him as he approached the designated spot.

Upon arrival, Tom's breath caught in his throat, and time seemed to stand still. Draco, adorned in a pristine white shirt, occupied a delicate swing that swayed gently in the breeze. The swing itself was suspended from a sturdy branch, framed by the cascading cherry blossoms. Draco was feeding peacocks that adorned the garden like living ornaments.

One particularly audacious peacock had perched itself on the headrest of the swing, its white plumage matching with the pure white surroundings. Draco's alabaster hair was immaculately styled, and the soft summer light lent a celestial glow to his features. The scene radiated an otherworldly beauty as if Draco were a deity presiding over a sacred garden.

As Tom stood rooted to the spot, a surge of conflicting emotions engulfed him. The arresting beauty of the moment left him awestruck, but an undercurrent of insecurity and regret crept in.

"Pure," Tom thought, almost laughing at the cruel jest life played. The irony wasn't lost on him - he, who had recently hurled the words "Slut" and "Whore" at Draco, now felt like an intruder sullying the sanctity of this divine scene.

Did he even deserve the blonde Veela? Tom hoped Mother Magic wasn't playing with him. He longed for a mate for years and now that he finally had one, Tom didn't know what to make of emotions like Jealousy and Insecurity. He shouldn't have said all of that but his anger had taken a hold of him. Tom didn't know what to do. He could only hope.

Time elongated as he stood there, the struggle within him evident in the furrow of his brow. Finally, after what felt like ages, Tom managed to form the one word that hung in the air like a delicate petal. "Draco."

He hoped Draco could hear the feelings behind his voice. It was an attempt at an apology, an admission, and an unspoken plea for understanding.

Draco turned around on the swing, his gaze meeting Tom's as the dark lord spoke. "My lord," the blond said, his tone carrying a mix of formality and something else that lingered beneath the surface.

The Dark Lord moved to sit beside the blonde on the swing.

"Have you eaten?" Tom inquired, struggling to mask his unease. He was the Dark Lord; why should he fear a confrontation?

"Get to the point," Draco replied coldly, not bothering to lift his gaze from the peacock. The intensity of the moment had suspended the usual deference he showed as a Slytherin and a servant of the Dark Lord. In this garden, beneath the cherry blossoms, Draco felt an odd sense of tranquillity that shielded him from the usual tremors of fear.