Star Crossed

Chapter Eighty Five- 'I could never hate you.'

The cool water splashed against my skin as I washed away the smeared makeup from the night before I looked up into the mirror. My eyes were puffy and had an exhausted bloody look to them but what stood out the most was my neck, upon it sat a proud unsightly purple bruise. I swallowed hard as the sight of it made me feel slightly sick, my hand instinctively reached up to the pendent which always sat upon my chest. I hesitated for a moment before I slipped it off of my neck for the first since I had put it on all that time ago. I looked down at it sat within the palm of my hand before walking out of the bathroom and over towards a small box which sat upon my bedside table. With a painful stab through my chest I placed the necklace within the box and closed the lid firmly on top. 
I picked up my Gryffindor scarf and wrapped it tightly around my neck in preparation for facing the day, I would not hide in fear. 

"Why are you wearing that scarf indoors?" Amber asked raising her eyebrow at me as we sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast. 
"It's cold." I replied bluntly, thankfully it was the middle of February and as such it was still fairly cold even if that wasn't so much the case inside the castle. 
"Inside?" She asked taking a sip of her pumpkin juice but when I did not reply she merely shrugged it off. 
"So... it Valentines Day tomorrow what are your plans!" She grinned at me. My brain seemed to fog over... I had lost all sense of dates and times... 
"I... I had forgotten." I replied honestly. "I'm not doing anything." I quickly added. 
"Pffft!" Amber scoffed. "Look who is looking at you, maybe you will have something planned for you." she giggled. 
I followed her line of sight and felt a sharp pain like that of a knife rip through me. There he sat looking as nonchalant as ever observing me over the top of his copy of the Daily Prophet before he turned his gaze away towards Lestrange who was clearly trying to hold onto his attention. 
"Earth to Grisha," Amber chuckled bringing me out of my thoughts. 
"I'm not doing anything." I repeated firmly but Amber merely held up a hand with a smirk and took an enthusiastic bite out of her slice of jam covered toast. 

Later that day we had agreed to meet in the Room of Requirement. I was certainly not looking forward to coming face to face with Tom again after the previous night but I knew that I had to. I could not give Wiglaf and Lazarus any reason to become suspicious, I knew they were already going to question me about my 'mysterious' illness the other night. If either of them were to find out it would ruin us. The Heirs needed to stay together, we needed to stay strong. We was the wizarding world's greatest hope. I needed to handle this situation myself.
   I sat in my usual arm chair a large book propped in my lap I scanned the chapter list looking for anything that would shed any light on the possible trail of the Founders artefacts but it was proving to be fruitless... we had seemed to come to a dead end in our search. 
I glanced upwards from my book to see Lazarus also leaning over a book at one of the desks, Wiglaf was sat scanning over the map his fingers tapping absentmindedly upon it but he was not looking down at it his eyes were firmly upon me. I averted my eyes quickly causing them to land upon the other person within the room... Tom. I had avoided so much as glancing at him the whole time we had been up here, he was bent over his cauldron which was simmering gently emitting a gentle bubbling sound and a thin wrath of mist.  Hi hair had fallen out of place slightly due to the heat and his the top four buttons of his school shirt were undone revealing his lower neck and defined clavicle, his sleeves rolled up roughly to his elbows. He looked in deep concentration as he cut up various ingredients, the steady clunks of his knife hitting the wooden table punctuated the silence. 
"Grisha, how are you feeling?" Wiglaf suddenly asked turning his body towards me and leaning upon the bookshelf, I felt Lazarus also look up from his book in interest. Tom however continued to work on his ingredients however the pauses between chopping did seem to lengthen somewhat as if he also had one ear upon the conversation. 
"Much better." I replied simply. "It was just a migraine... a get them sometimes." I lied averting my eyes back down towards my open book. 
"Funny you have never mentioned them before." Lazarus interrupted a slight frown to his face. 
"It isn't very often." I replied hastily. "besides I don't usually tell people when I do, it's not as if there is anything they can do I usually just take my tonic and get some rest." I cringed as I let the lie slip off of my tongue I hated lying to them. 
"Why have you got your scarf on indoors?" Wiglaf asked crossing his arms across his chest. This was not a conversation, this was an interrogation and Wiglaf was not even trying to disguise it. 
"I'm just cold." I countered, wrapping my arms around myself. 
"Inside?" Wiglaf rose an eyebrow. "Next to a fire?" 
"I..."
Suddenly there was a loud gasp.
"Shit." Riddle hissed under his breath we all looked over to him to see deep fresh blood dripping onto the table as he clutched his right hand his knife discarded upon the table. 
Instinctively I threw down my book and hurried over to him, Wiglaf and Lazarus following suit. 
"What happened?" Wiglaf asked. 
"I slipped." Tom hissed through gritted teeth. 
"That's not like you." Lazarus commented folding his own arms as he looked down at Riddle's bloodied hand, Riddle shot him a fierce look. 
I reached out my own hand and gently praised his hand away from him so that I could inspect the wound, he looked at me with a hesitant and almost disbelieving expression. 
"It's quite deep," I muttered out loud as I observed the severed flesh, the clean cut almost had a blue cast to the skin around it. 
"Bloody hell," Lazarus grimaced biting down on his own knuckle. 
"Never go into healing Lazarus," I chuckled. Tom was staring down at his own blood soaked hand his jaw clenched. 
Wiglaf summoned a small wooden box from the corner of the room. 
"It's fine." Tom grumbled trying to pull his hand away from me. 
"It needs to be treated." I said firmly. I waved my wand over the wound causing the blood flow to slow down. 
"Could you pass me the essence of dittany please?" I asked Wiglaf as I used a small piece of cloth from the wooden box to clean away as much of the blood from the sight of the wound as I could. Lazarus stood back an uncomfortable look upon his face, averting his eyes every few seconds. 
Wiglaf sifted quickly through the box before passing me a small vial of a brown liquid. I uncorked releasing the unpleasant smell similar to that of vinegar. 
"It's stings a little." I warned before using the pepete to administer a few drops of the potion onto Tom's open wound, he took a sharp intake of breath before releasing it slowly again as the initial pain ebbed away. 
"That's it," I murmured to myself as the wound appeared less angry. I turned my head to see that Wiglaf was already holding out a small bandage, "It needs to be kept clean," he added. 
I thanked him as I took it from him and began to wrap it tightly around Tom's hand, it was then that I realised how translucently pale his thin hands were, his fingers almost unusually long and slim. Here I was helping to mend the same hand which had been wrapped around my neck less than twenty four hours previous. But there was no denying it, it was instinctive to help him, I did not want to see him in pain. 

I bade goodnight to Wiglaf and Lazarus as I packed up stuffed my belongings back into my satchel as fast as I could. Tom was still packing away his potions equipment and I desperately wanted to escape the room before we were left alone but just as I reached the door, my hand resting upon the handle I froze at the sound of my name. 
"What?" I whispered without bothering to turn around. 
"We need to talk." he said firmly, as I heard the door lock click shut. Panic and fear pounded through my chest as I threw myself around to face him. 
"Open the door." I demanded, my voice betraying me by shaking. 
He merely stood there staring at me with that samed damned blank expression and piercing blue eyes.
"I said open the door." I snapped my chest heaving. 
"Are you afraid of me?" He asked tilting his head to the side. 
"Afraid of you?" I scoffed. "Stay away from me Riddle." I spat turning back around and pointing my wand at the door I tried in vein to unlock it growling in frustration. 
"Why?" He commanded suddenly, causing me to stop my struggling... I turned back around fixing him with a look of confusion. 
"Why did you care to come to my aid?" he had tilted his head to one side he eyebrow raised. 
"What do you mean?" I exclaimed feeling far too exasperated to deal with him in this moment. 
"No matter what happens you remain the same little beckon of righteousness." his voice sounded bitter almost frustrated. 
"Righteousness? You think that's why I helped you? Because it was the right thing to do?" I asked incredulously, he did not respond. 
"If anyone else would have done what you did to me Riddle.." I raged, all of my anger charging out of me. "You. We..." I paused wondering what it actually was I was about to say... 
"... I can't watch you in pain." I replied, Tom did not seem touched by this sentiment at all if anything he seemed angered. 
" You should hate me." he hissed. 
"Do you want me to hate you?" I retorted shrilly throwing my hands up into the air. 
"Yes!" He snapped... plunging the room into silence as we stared at each other... it began to dawn on me... was last night his way of warning me? Of getting me to back away from him?
"You betrayed me, hurt me and for that I will never forgive you." I replied calmly. "But I could never hate you." I averted my eyes to the ground. 
"I don't understand." he murmured more to himself than to me. 
"No... you don't." I whispered as a lump formed in my throat making it difficult to speak, he looked up as if remembering that I was still in the room. "And I feel sorry for you." I added.
I heard the lock upon the door click back open. Turning around without a second's glance at Riddle I grasped the handle and threw open the doors slamming them behind me and leaving him alone.