Zealous (Tom Riddle)

Chapter 9

Elizabeth wrote to the Hogwarts headmaster as nearly as she could, taking an extra few seconds on each character that she wrote.

She heard Tom scoff over her shoulder but she ignored him. It was late at night - about eight pm, and she was sat at the desk which Tom had cleared from his messy, scrawled out notes.

She finished. She moved to the window, spying her owl in a nearby tree - the owl didn't like for Elizabeth to go far so she always followed. Bracing herself, Elizabeth flung the letter out the window.

The owl flew to it gracefully, capturing it in its mouth in a swift motion. It whisked in the direction of Hogwarts and soon, it was gone.

Tom was expressionless as Elizabeth turned to face him, no emotion even trying to show itself as he stared at her blankly. Elizabeth gave him a similar expression. She had no interest in conversing with him, but regardless, began to speak.

"It's late," she basically whispered as she turned to jam the window shut.

"I know," Tom replied, looking towards the clock on the wall. It was about quarter past eight.

"Shouldn't we get some sleep?" Elizabeth asked, eyeing the beds which were still connected. The night before, they'd both fallen asleep talking.

At least they didn't wake up entangled in each other's arms, or so Elizabeth had thought once she woke up next to him.

Tom sighed, "Are you honestly tired, Elizabeth? We have one day left."

Elizabeth shook her head, brown hair falling in front of her pale face as she leaned against the wall.

"Not really," she commented, "I just thought we might need the energy to get everything done before we leave tomorrow."

"Perhaps you're correct," Tom said quietly.

"We didn't find out much today," Elizabeth announced and thinking nothing of it, she continued to ask, "We need to find those men. If you were to murder someone, where would you hide them?"

Tom's features became dark and he pondered on the question for a few silent minutes.

"A bathroom, perhaps?" Tom suggested, "If there's one out of order, that would be an ideal place."

Elizabeth nodded along to his words, understanding. Tom's expression was still mysterious. Elizabeth moved towards the bed and flopped onto it face-first.

Tom shook his head at her brief childishness but couldn't help but to give into the temptation to sit down beside her. Elizabeth peeked at him from under a curtain of brown waves. Tom chuckled lightly.

"Does it not frustrate you?" He asked, referring to her hair.

"Sometimes," she laughed, moving it away from her face. Tom felt a warm smile inch its way onto his lips but with a lot of willpower, he pushed it away.

Within minutes, Elizabeth's breathing became steadier and shallower. Tom lifted a pile of strands of her hair to see that she was fast asleep.

This time, he scoffed, "You could've just said you were tired."

He wasn't really speaking to anyone in particular. He didn't expect her to reply - well, of course he didn't, she was asleep.

He softly lowered his head onto the pillow next to her, their faces relatively close. He shuffled away from her slightly, feeling uncomfortable at their close proximity.

But, just like that, they both fell asleep.