Morning couldn't have came any quicker. Sunlight dripped through the white curtains hanging from the long glass window, birds echoing throughout the fields. A peaceful day for acts so grime. The sunlight hiding the horrors to be taken place today. Tom had made it clear to the boys he wanted to make a strike today in the Ministry. A fate Conscious was unaware of, the poor hopeless girl assuming it was a simple task not a massive attack.
Tom had declared Abraxas her protecter, keeping her far away from the pool of blood that would soon seep the Ministry's stones. He wanted to show his power, that a simple orphan half-blood boy could overturn high pure-blood royalty. In his own ways he was royalty but a King needed a throne. It was bold yes, but it was something no wizard had attempted. Grindelwald only attacked muggles, no wizard had gone to attack its own. But to Tom, the Ministry were full of blood traitors. They supported the views of the filth that rocked Tom's past, that muggles needed protection.
How pitiful.
Tom stood tall outside on the balcony, inhaling the toxins of his cigarette. The only useful thing a muggle ever created. He watched the sun-razes stroked his pale body as he stood only in trousers. He wanted to be known, his itch for power clawed deeper by the second. He wanted to be feared like Grindelwald had made fear on muggles. He saw Grindelwald as a pathetic waste of a cause, hunting muggles wouldn't change the fact that the Wizarding World was full of filthy blood traitors. Mud bloods and muggle supporters walked around as if they are something special.
How ridiculous.
Even though his blood was tainted with muggle blood, it didn't stop his desire to rid the rest. For he was more than a half-blood, he had the blood of the noble Salazar Slytherin to over rid the muggle in him. And he intended on finishing the noble deed his ancestor had begun. Ever since he was young he was born to hate muggles, even if his filthy mother gave birth to Tom in the Gaunt home their pure blood mania would've driven Tom to the same outcome. A tragedy set for the boy before even him conceived and he accepted this. At first he wondered maybe if he was loved earlier but when he came to know his past he came to understand this was his fate. Love and any idea of this left his mind, those dreams and idiotic aspirations as a child vanished. Until Conscious of course.
Tom glanced to see the girl still asleep in the bed they shared. He did care for her, but his darkness was far to rooted to be changed. She loved him and he didn't hide the fact he liked it, someone willing to go through extra lengths to prove they care. He never had that and he didn't want to lose it. This is why he had to lie. It made the most perfect sense to him, with her unaware of his premeditated plans it could be pulled off as an 'accident'.
He didn't love her but he didn't want to lose her. Tom was well aware she would object and he couldn't have that, no matter if it hurt her now, it's always better to seek forgiveness than permission with her he found. Turning his gaze away he looked back out, resting his arms on the balcony ledge finishing his nasty habit. He blamed Abraxas for this, as useless habit he would soon grow tire of anyway.
Tom always enjoyed mornings, though he'd never admit this. He liked the fresh sun, as a child it was the only sort of good morning he ever received. In the orphanage, the sun was the only thing that woke up, or the ratchet screeches Mrs. Coles would produce. Merlin he couldn't wait to burn that place he refuses to ever call home to smother. The fact thoughts of that place still lingers in his mind only drove his hatred deeper for muggles.
With one last look, he turned back inside, returning to the foot of the bed sitting. Conscious laid peacefully, her legs peaking out from the blanket, her arms placed next to her head as the sunlight beamed down at her pale skin. He watched her. Something he always did if he awoke first, eyes glued to her as if she was a work of the finest art to in his opinion she was. He didn't love her, he couldn't love her but seeing her always pinged something in his chest, a feeling he learned to accept.
