the seven devils [completed]

chapter twenty-two

NOTE: Oh my god! Thank you so much for almost 3.5k reads! I woke up today to 100 notifications or so, and I once again want to say thank you for those reading, especially those commenting and voting! It means a lot and I hope you have been enjoying this story so far. Although this story is not finished, I try my best to update daily so I will not leave you hanging!

Also, we are now #1 in the "Riddle" category. Thank you sooo so much!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Hogwarts had been Varya's only home for months, and without even realizing, she had grown overly attached to it, to the point where leaving the castle made her feel suffocated. She stood beside the Main Entrance, her humble suitcase by her side, and she looked over the imposing towers that stood against the bright sky.

The snow had covered the ancient school, glistening in the sun and reflecting its pure rays. The engulfing feeling in her heart grew exponentially as she watched Tom Riddle gaze down from an open window on the fifth floor. His eyes regarded over the multitude of students as they bumped into each other with enthusiasm, gleeful at seeing their families over the holidays.

She wondered what he felt at that moment, his situation so similar to hers, and she wanted him to talk to her about it, to be honest about his longing. Was he disheartened during Christmas, when he walked the streets of his town and saw the many families window shopping in the busy streets? When his friends bragged about the presents they had received, did he ever feel ashamed about not owning any new robes, not having the shiniest toys in the stores?

The wind blew at his curls, and his unmoving face carried the royalty of a nordic prince, so graceful and brilliant that it was breathtaking. Tom Riddle had been born to conquer, to rule over those of lesser minds, and Varya knew that with the right push, he could become the leader the wizarding world needed. The only problem, however, was stopping him from becoming a bloodthirsty tyrant.

Tom's eyes finally met hers, and he recognized the striking dark hair against the innocence of the snow. His mind flashed of red drops and sharp daggers, the pitiful cry of a soul that had been broken, and he found himself to be entranced by her presence. She had regained her youthful glow, the poison's effects finally subduing, and now, she resembled the strong witch that he had seen on the first day.

He remembered her in her sophisticated gown, wearing the traditional family crest on her sleeves, carrying herself with the dignity that he knew she possessed deep inside her, and a small breath left his lips. She had disappeared half-way throughout the night, and Tom had fought against the need to find her, unsure of his mind.

Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself slowly making his way down the moving stairs, cursing when they switched unexpectedly. There was an awareness in his body, and for some reason, he rushed to the Main Entrance, dragging his trunk behind him.

Tom stood in front of the main door, and watched her from the shadows as she carried her bags toward a carriage, suddenly stopping unexpectedly as she gazed at the Therestral. The creature neighed at her, stomping his feet in agitation, almost as if he could smell the sinful blood on her hands, and Varya found herself backing up in a hurry. Tom made his way to her, already seeing pieces of her mind break at the memory. Without saying a word, he threw his trunk in the carriage and hopped in one of the seats.

He extended his hand to Varya, and she watched him with wary eyes, gaze flicking between the boy and the creature.

"Nothing can defy you unless you let it," he told her, arm still extended. Reluctantly, she accepted his offer, then climbed the steps to sit opposite him.