Loyal | Tom Riddle

31: Behind Closed Doors

A/N: I felt bad for the long wait, so I wrote an extra long chapter! Hope you like it :) Comment lots if you do ❤️

The silence, heavy enough to sink a ship and drown all aboard, echoed down the halls so loudly that he was sure everyone in Hogwarts could hear the noiseless sound, the soundless noise.  It erased nearly every thought in his head, every word from the tip of his tongue, every scheme and every plan, every idea that he'd ever concocted at late hours by candlelight.  His mind was a blank page staring up at him, taunting him, teasing him.  It dared him to fill it from margin to margin with words, meaningless dialogue, his shrewd perceptions of the world around him.  But still, he stood, frozen.

The seconds crept by in agonising slowness like some grotesque, infinite funeral march.  He was hyperaware of every bead of sweat that gathered on his brow, of the slight clamminess to his hands, even of the minuscule threads that made up his socks and enveloped his now-curling toes.  Every sense was sent into overdrive, hypertension, haywire with alert and awaiting even the smallest offset to implode entirely.

The thought crossed his mind after precisely six and a half seconds of this foreign torture that perhaps she was a sadist, intent on dealing blows to his very being, unsatisfied until he would crumble into a million pieces and wear away with the sands of time, forever forgotten.  With every breath he drew, the possibility became more and more real.  Maybe she really was so cold-blooded and cruel; maybe she was intent on his destruction, on ending everything he had ever worked for, everything he had dreamed of.

But there was a light to her eyes, a slight tenderness, that registered in his brain as evidence against his mind's ceaseless working to conjure up answers to unknown questions, explanations for the unexplainable.  Her gaze made him feel nothing, yet it sent his mind scrambling for answers.  Her gaze was neither cold nor warm when directed at him, but somewhere in the middle -- it was territory upon which he could expand upon by taking her under his wing, by using this moment to make her understand. 

Still, the air between them remained unbroken, whispering entire monologues left unspoken.  The rush left his heart pounding in his ears, air torn from his lungs -- but one never would have been able to decipher his anguish and how it burned like a fire, how it consumed him entirely, from how tall he stood, his face impassive and emotionless, caging the new sensations that spread throughout his body like plague, holding them captive out of innate fear and stubborn resentment.

"Well?"

All at once, everything snapped into place, so suddenly that it almost gave him whiplash.  The world spun back into focus, and the shadows returned from their slumber, lazily draping themselves across the moon-painted corridor, her face, his hands.  Everything was normal, and all from one syllable.

"If you don't have anything to say, then I'd best be going," said the distant voice, its tone slowly shaping a single, haphazard thought in his brain.

Tom cleared his throat, taking a step forward with hands clasped carefully behind his back, chin raised with an air of haughtiness befit a prince.  He couldn't let her go anywhere, not now.  "Do you want to talk?"

He caught sight of her, half-illuminated by the pale moon, and nearly staggered, coming to a halting stop. Their gazes met for a brief second, lingering on each others' surprised faces, wide eyes, parted lips.

She bit her lip, casting her eyes down, towards the stone floor.  "I think I'd rather have some time to myself right now, if you don't mind, but thank you."

"No," Tom insisted sharply, fighting back the tugging sensation at the corners of his lips.  He suddenly understood why Nikolai enjoyed annoying her so much.  "I do mind."