To Revive a Soul || Tom Riddle

24. Rowena's Lost Diadem

When Eleanor awoke the next morning, it was from the door of the tent being opened forcefully and letting too much sunlight in. She squinted her eyes, peering at Tom, who had been standing in the tent's opening and staring at the floor. "What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Early," he replied. "Get up. We should get going."

He walked outside, letting the flap of fabric fall shut behind him. Eleanor sat up, trying to gather her thoughts after the previous night. Tom didn't seem to be acting any worse around her, which she was grateful for. She had gone to bed worried that whatever she had said to him would cause a rift between them, but she supposed that his lack of emotions—as he claimed—prevented him from really feeling anything at her confession. And, as much as she hated admitting it, was probably a good thing for the time being.

When she exited the tent, Tom was already standing there with his wand out, ready to shrink the campsite and put it away. "How's that voice?" he asked quietly as he gathered the tiny bits of the tent and fire.

"Still too soft to tell where it's coming from. It's... everywhere."

"Well, start walking. Maybe you'll get closer today." He walked past her into the thick brush, pushing a few low-hanging branches out of the way as he crunched fallen leaves under his feet.

She hurried behind him, still not over the previous night's events. "Tom, I'm really sorry about last—"

"Don't be," he interjected, barely glancing back at her as she came up to his side. "I chose to tell you."

"And I'm grateful for that, truly, but..." She could sense that he was trying to dodge the elephant in the room, but she wasn't about to let him. "That isn't what I'm talking about."

He stopped in his tracks, looking down at her as she peered meekly up at him. "You still want to prattle on about your silly doting on me?"

"I wanted to apologize," she corrected. He sneered at her words.

"Look, Eleanor," he began, staring his pace again, "I don't want to make any of this a bigger deal than it needs to be. Whatever you feel toward me, or don't, I can't return it. You may as well give up before you get yourself hurt."

"I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, you succeeded. I was thoroughly put off," he told her, moving a particularly large branch out of his way. "People don't... like me. For you, for anyone to say that they do is strange to the ear."

"People don't like you?" she repeated. "Tom, every girl in Slytherin is head over heels for that mysterious aura you give off. You might be a crazed lunatic around me and your Death Eaters, but the rest of the school just sees a charming, talented wizard. You're nowhere near hated."

He sighed, a ghost of a smile finding its way onto his face. "That's all a ruse. If they knew who I was, they wouldn't fancy me."

She felt the words rise in her throat—but I know who you are—and swallowed them back before they could leave her mouth. So she said the next thing that came to mind. "You're right. Maybe you should keep that under wraps instead of dragging a total stranger into a secret chamber to lay witness to your Horcrux-making schemes."

That made him chuckle. He whipped around, wand extended and aimed at Eleanor, and glared at her. "I will curse you for that."

"I'd like to see you try." She saw the light beaming from the wand as he tried to call her bluff, but she was quicker, apparating away and striking him with a quick jolt of energy that made him stumble to the side. He gaped at her as he put his wand away, trying to use his mind to hit her with any number of jinxes, but she was always one step ahead of him.